An Inevitable Fate
by KissThis
Summary: A prophecy is revealed connecting Hermione to the key of Voldemort's demise, a prophecy that Voldemort will do anything to keep from coming true. Hope has chosen her to be the Champion - will she save the world, or die in the attempt? COMPLETED(HGDM)
1. Fate's Twisted Sense of Humor

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter One: Fate's Twisted Sense of Humor

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: Wouldn't you like to know?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

Summary: Hermione. Is. Dying. She doesn't know when, but it's a depressing inevitability. Can she summon the strength to tell her friends? And what of all the things she's never going to get to do? Can she get her life in order before it's over? You'll have to read, now won't you?

--

Disclaimer: JK owns everything. *cries* Yes I know...depressing isn't it?

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A/N: I have about 50 other stories going on at once, and I still wanted to start this one. The idea for this story has been bouncing around in my head for days and I just HAD to write it out. I hope you like it as much as I liked it when it was in my head.

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Special Thanks: I'd like to thank **meggiebaby81** for coming up with a title for the chapter! She's is my kick ass muse and you all shall bow down before her! I love you babe!

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Hermione Granger stepped out of the building she had previously been occupying and scanned the streets for any sign of the friends she had planned on meeting. The depressing atmosphere of the white brick building already dissipating beneath the blinding rays of sunlight. The mature woman of 17, looked anything but as she darted down the stone steps that led from the building after catching sight of a familiar crop of flaming hair.

_Ron!_ She started to call out, but the words died on her lips as she found herself facing the youngest Weasley - Ginny. But it didn't matter - she smiled all the same. "Gin!" She called out in order to grab the younger woman's attention.

"Hermione?! God you look great!" Ginny exclaimed when she had turned around and was given the chance to finally take in her friend's entire appearance.

Hermione sighed and let herself fall into the familiar embrace. It felt so good after having been trapped in that oppressive building to be in the presence of a friend. She'd never noticed before but Ginny smelled faintly of wildflowers and cookie dough. As the redhead pulled away, Hermione logged away her observation and committed it to memory.

Her soft and earthy smile came easily as she swept her honey colored eyes over Ginny - starting at the crown of her head and ending at her feet in their beaded flip-flops and her toes decorated with pink nail polish. "You too!" She exclaimed, "Just gorgeous!"

Her small smile widened slightly while she watched the blush rise in Ginny's cheeks and spread to the roots of her flaming hair. Her eyes followed the flowing strands of hair to where they ended beneath her breasts; already well developed. Her wavy tresses that had once been almost neon orange had darkened into a richly vibrant auburn that transformed her childish face into one of subtle elegance.

The color suited her and Hermione secretly wished that her friend had no desire to alter it, magically or otherwise. Just in case, Hermione made sure to comment on it, "Especially your hair! It suits you so well, Gin."

Reaching out, Hermione ran her slender fingers through the rust-colored hair. Another smile tugged at her lips and she found that her smile was contagious - as soon as she let it out Ginny was smiling too. "It's so soft too."

Extricating her hand from the waves of hair she ran it through her own chestnut tresses pulling them away from her face. _This summer has done her good._ A breeze picked up about the pair stirring the hem of Hermione's summer dress. The scratch of the cotton against her skin brought Hermione's mind back to her companion. 

"So where might your brother be? I was looking for him and Harry when I saw you. We were going to do our school shopping together, but I had a prior engagement to see to so I told them I'd meet them after. Only now I realize we never set up a time _or_ place to rendezvous."

Hermione realized by the look on Ginny's face that she had been babbling. Having the decency to blush she gave the redhead a chagrined look. "You get the idea."

Ginny nodded and hoisted her knapsack higher on her shoulder. "Well I don't keep tags on my block-headed brother, but you and I both know they're most likely staked out at the Quidditch shop."

Hermione laughed, her mood already lifting. "Brilliant deduction, Watson." She complimented giddily in a posh, male, British accent. Ginny, who had hardly any Muggle experience, gave her a bewildered expression. Linking arms Hermione started them walking towards Quality Quidditch Supplies and began to explain the quote from Sherlock Homes to her confused friend.

WMWMWMWMW

When they had finally made it through the crowd of bustling people to the front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Hermione had given up on explaining it to her rather dense friend and promised to loan her the book sometime.

" 'Mione!" 

Hermione's head snapped up at the mention of her name, and she turned away from Ginny with whom she had been conversing. She had to wait for the crowd to part before she could even get a glimpse of the owner of the voice.

It was Harry. 

WMWMWMWMW

As he had been leaning against the stone building he had caught sight of the distinctive Weasley hair and than Hermione herself walking beside Ginny. She was wearing a baby blue dress that fell smoothly to just above her knees. Harry also noted with surprise that her dress sported a very low V-neckline and tied, like a halter, behind her neck - things that were not usually found in his best friend's normal attire. Her chestnut hair, un-frizzy as of last year, fell a little past her shoulders. Harry noticed that the corkscrew curls bounced when she walked.

He called out to her and felt a satisfied tug inside of him when her head immediately shot up. Glancing at Ron, sitting on the steps beside him he found his friend's eyes to be locked on Hermione even as she ran towards them.

WMWMWMWMW

From her position within the throng of people Hermione studied the two of her best friends. Quidditch had honed both of their bodies making them into the muscled hunks of Gryffindor house. Harry's hair was still as messy as ever, and Hermione couldn't imagine her boy-hood friend without his characteristic raven locks. He was wearing khaki shorts, a white beater that was tight enough to show off his abs, and blue flip-flops.

Ron, finally in his own spotlight, was, in Lavender's words, "super dreamy" as well. His fire engine red hair was spiked with gel giving his boyish face a sexy undertone. He was wearing black warm-up pants that snapped up the sides and a white, muscle T-shirt that was _certainly_ doing its job.

_It seems the summer has treated everyone well..._

She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought. What she really wanted to say was _except me_, but she wouldn't let her pessimistic thoughts ruin such a bright and sunny summer day.

Dragging Ginny through the crowd with her Hermione only released her when she flung herself at Harry without the slightest bit of hesitation. He smelled like cinnamon. With his arms around her waist and hers about his neck, Harry picked her up and spun her around. She was laughing when he finally set her back down and she quickly hugged him again. "God, Harry! I've missed you!"

"The feeling's mutual." He held her out at arms length, "Beautiful as always." He grinned cheekily.

"Always the charmer," She replied giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Turning around she saw Ron in the process of getting up and leapt at him as well. Trying to support both himself and Hermione, Ron failed and Hermione's momentum sent them tumbling to the ground. 

With his body pinned beneath hers it was all Ron could do not to blush. Instead he smiled his sly half-grin that only he could pull off and looked up at her, "I didn't know you missed me _that much_."

Hermione pretended to look affronted and slapped his arm, "Very funny _Ronald_." Untangling her limbs from his she grabbed his hand and helped him into a standing position. Then, when all she did was hug him he pouted and pointed to his cheek until Hermione took the hint and gave him a kiss as well.

Once all of the greetings had been exchanged, Ginny had run off to meet some friends at Madam Malkin's. The three friends linked arms, with Hermione placed comfortably in the middle, and headed off towards Flourish & Blotts - Hermione's idea.

Though Ron agreed to go he sportingly complained the _entire_ way. Hermione smiled to herself as her friends fell comfortably back into the familiar routine they had created for themselves. Ron argued and complained, **she** countered and was "the voice of reason", and Harry served as the buffer between the two making sure they didn't tear each other apart - though nowadays their "fights" were less out of anger and more out of tradition.

"Honestly, Ron. We've been friends for six years and you **_still_** can't stand going to the bookstore for _ten minutes._" Jerking her head slightly, she flicked her mahogany locks over her shoulder.

Ron jovially bumped his shoulder against hers making their whole line sway slightly, "Well, _you know_. I'm a free spirit me."

It must have been the way he said it because Hermione burst into peals of laughter even though the statement itself wasn't particularly funny.

Coincidentally, her laughter was also infectious because almost immediately Harry and Ron were laughing along with her. Harry's laughter subsided to deep throaty chuckles as he broke their arm-linked chain and jumped between Ron and Hermione throwing his arms about their shoulders.

"Can't we all just get along?"

Hermione looked at him sternly, making harry gulp in nervousness and uncertainty. But she couldn't keep up the façade and dissolved into hysterical laughter - both of the boys joining in. Finding it impossible to walk and laugh as hard as they were, the trio stumbled and staggered through the front door of Flourish and Blotts.

--

Mumbling something about the scandalous selling of abridged books, Hermione slammed shut the book she had been skimming through and set it back upon the teetering tower of books she had pulled it from. Staring at the stack she wondered vaguely if the employees used magic to keep the books from toppling. It seemed a very reasonable possibility due to the fact that the haphazard stacking combined with the Earth's gravity would have surely brought the pile tumbling down by now.

But, alas! She was overthinking again...

With a sigh she went back to perusing the towering shelves of books in a casual and cursory manner. After a few more minutes of scanning the spines of the books she spotted the one she was looking for - four shelves above her head.

Standing on her tiptoes she strained her arm upwards and stretched her fingers as far as was physically possible but she barely reached above the third shelf. Her heart-shaped face scrunched up in frustration and she started jumping. But even then her fingers only grazed the bottoms of the books on the fourth shelf.

Unable to pull the book out she had ended up pushing it farther in. Swearing under her breath she stepped back so that she could _properly_ glare at the book that was evading her so easily. Stomping her foot angrily and cursing her measly 5'6" height she whipped out her wand.

She had had about enough of this...and she _really_ needed that book.

She had just raised her wand - ready to hex that damn book into oblivion when there was a low chuckle behind her. Someone reached over her and grabbed the object of her frustration. "I never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger would draw her wand on one of her beloved books..."

The book she had been so bent on retrieving became suddenly insignificant as she whirled around. "Draco!" She squealed and leapt into the startled boy's arms. Draco...always a Malfoy at heart...still found it difficult to give and receive hugs having never been allowed to take part in such "frivolous activities" growing up.

Nonetheless, after joining up with the Golden Trio to defeat Lucius and his band of Death Eaters and working together, even now, towards the defeat of Voldemort, he had grown accustom to the female Gryffindor occasionally flinging herself at him and practically strangling him.

He struggled to maintain his balance with Hermione latched on to his waist. Finally, Hermione seemed to understand that their ability to stay standing was quickly failing and she released him. She stepped back so that she could look at his face without having to crane her neck at a rather painful angle.

"**_How_** did you get so bloody tall?" She complained - already estimating in her head how tall he was.

He shrugged and smirked roguishly down at her, "_Magic_?" He suggested slyly. He handed her her book.

"Very funny, Malfoy." She scoffed, reflexively reverting back to calling him by his last name. The nostalgia of their habitual fighting washed over her making her feel weak in the knees. That'd be another thing to her rapidly growing list: _No more bickering with Malfoy_. Or should she write it down as Draco. No...she was friends with Draco -- she bickered with Malfoy. Hermione laughed inwardly. She was talking about him as if he were two entirely different people. She paused thoughtfully. But in all honesty, if she was going to continue with her list she should do it correctly.

"What are you...6 foot?" She mused - unconsciously finding a chestnut-colored curl and twirling it about her index finger.

His smirk grew wider, "Good guess."

Hermione grinned impishly and turned her face so that one half of it was covered by the cascading waterfall of curls that was her hair. "It wasn't a guess..."

She watched in guilty fascination as he struggled to hide his bewilderment beneath an ever-present mask that acted like a brick wall; blocking all emotions from view. The thing that gave it all away was his eyes. He couldn't put up his defensive shield -- which seemed to be an accessory equipped to all Malfoys at birth -- in time to completely prevent Hermione from sensing his confusion and surprise.

Deciding she wouldn't let him suffer any longer under her calculating gaze, she rolled her eyes, "It's quite simple, really." She reproached in that superior tone of voice she assumed when explaining something she thought was tremendously easy.

"Using Muggle Trigonometry and the different shadows we cast due to the sunlight coming in through the skylight above us I was able to closely approximate your height using mine as a comparison."

Draco was indeed a formidable rival within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the disgustingly intelligent teenager had almost no knowledge of Muggles, their culture, or their ways. And especially not their higher mathematics.

"You see by taking my height, my shadow, and the line that could be drawn connecting them I made a 30-60-90 triangle. Then, knowing that my height was 5.6, I could use tangent and --"

" 'Mione!"

Hermione and Draco turned away from each other and watched as harry and Ron elbowed their way, rather rudely, through the crowd of bookstore-goers. Harry called her name again, but stopped short when he noticed Draco beside her. He didn't hesitate long in thumping the other boy soundly on the back in hello before turning to Hermione who he had been trying to hunt down in the first place.

" 'Mione, we have to get our books quickly so we can go and meet up with the rest of the gang."

Draco's body stiffened and the action did not escape Hermione's notice. She knew it was because _Draco_ knew he wasn't part of that group. She had tried before to insert him into their "gang", but Ron had promptly shot down the idea.

Hermione sighed, "All right. Maybe I'll explain it to you later?" She suggested to Draco holding the book across the front of her body.

He nodded and she gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek -- having to stand on her tiptoes to accomplish the second task.

"It's a date." His familiar smirk was back in place.

Hermione could feel her face flushing and she ducked her head in embarrassment. Harry was smiling in amusement, but Ron looked immensely uncomfortable throughout the entire exchange. Hermione knew he still didn't fully trust Draco -- but she suspected it was mainly because he didn't **like** him much. Every time the two got together Hermione had to struggle to refrain from laughing because, bottom line: the two just _couldn't_ get along together. Ron fidgeted in place and a twisted spike of red hair fell in front of his face.

"Hermione..."

She misjudged his tone as one of mild impatience and looked up, "Oh, sorry Harry! I was overthinking again. Let's go." She started forward but was stopped by Harry's hand on her arm.

"Harry?"

"What were you doing in the Muggle's section?" He asked curiously. He took a step forward and brushing the hair out of his face scanned the single bookshelf.

Hermione could just see him pushing those round glasses of his higher up on the bridge of his nose. Squinting and scrunching up his face in concentration as he looked over the different arrays of books. But he'd long since gotten rid of those oversized glasses in favor of contact lenses and the familiar actions became just another memory.

But all Hermione's imagining and all her thoughts about harry and his glasses were just a mask that she was attempting to hide her other, less-nostalgic thoughts behind. The amazing gift she had to remember everything around her and to store all the vast knowledge in the world into such a tiny organ as the brain, was also her curse. She often felt that her brain was spilling out more thoughts at a time than she could handle. She found herself talking to someone and thinking about 1, 2, 3, even 4 other things, at the same time and completely unrelated to each other **_or_** what she was talking about.

But overthinking wasn't her problem. Harry's _damn_ curiosity was.

Draco grinned. "And what was that book you were so bent on getting?" Hermione floundered like a fish out of water - her mouth struggling to form a reply that didn't sound too farfetched. She was so rattled by Draco's sudden inquiry that she could hardly react as he snatched the book from her hands.

Draco didn't expect her to freak out, so when she leapt at him to retrieve her book he was a little startled. Holding the book out of Hermione's reach, his silvery blue eyes darted across the cover. His brow furrowed and Hermione shrunk back nervously.

__

Oh God...don't let them find out...not now!

"Withenthorp's Detailed Works on the World's Deadly Diseases." He read slowly aloud. A lump rose in Hermione's throat as the silence following his words stretched on. Draco looked up at her through his lashes. His eyes were completely blank and his face showed no emotion.

Hermione couldn't understand how he could look so calm when she was practically melting into a nervous puddle of goo. She felt, rather than saw, Harry and Ron slowly turn to face her because she had forced her eyes on her jeweled flip-flops.

"Hermione?"

She couldn't breathe. Her throat contracted and her mouth became dry. She futily reached out again for the book, but didn't even come close before she dropped her hand back down to her side.

"It's for Muggle Studies" She insisted even as she heard her own voice raise shrilly. Harry and Ron seemed satisfied well enough with her answer, but Draco wasn't as convinced.

"I'm in that class -- and this book isn't required..." Draco commented. He idly turned the book over and over in his hands, but his stormy eyes never left Hermione's. He glanced down at the book quickly and then back up at her before handing the book back to her.

Instantly, the vise around her throat loosened and she was able to inhale shakily. The pounding of her pulse in her ears faded away and her mind stopped it's frantic reeling. Just the possibility of them finding out...the people she loved the most...it made her entire body tense.

How would she ever be able to tell them?

She clutched the book to her chest and grinned weakly. "You know me -- always doing that extra credit."

Ron groaned as he and Harry dragged her towards the front of the store, "Honestly 'Mione! Can't you think of anything besides school?" He jibbed comically.

Hermione allowed them to lead her away; her knuckles turning white from her fingers' death grip on the book. Glancing back over her shoulder her honey eyes locked with Draco's as he watched her go.

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If you only knew...fate's got a twisted sense of humor...

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R & R! 

Woah this baby is long! Don't expect the rest of the chapters to be this long 'cuz I don't know if I'll have the patience for it, lol.

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Movies watched while writing...

Princess Mononoke

The Italian Job - {ok, so it wasn't really **when** I was writing it -- more like **before**, but still...quality movie}


	2. Life and Fate Collide

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Two: Life and Fate Collide

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: Wouldn't you like to know?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

Summary: Hermione. Is. Dying. She doesn't know when, but it's a depressing inevitability. Can she summon the strength to tell her friends? And what of all the things she's never going to get to do? Can she get her life in order before it's over? You'll have to read, now won't you?

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Disclaimer: JK owns everything. *cries* Yes I know...depressing isn't it?

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A/N: Wow! I had so many reviews just for my first chapter! I love you all! Kisses!

--

Special Thanks: I must be retarded or something because I CANNOT come up with chapter title. Meg had to help me out again -- thanks babe! Love you lots!

WMWMWMWMW

With her newly acquired textbooks for the upcoming school year and Withenthorp's Detailed Works shrunken down to a miniscule size in her purse, Hermione walked down the streets of Diagon Alley with Ron and Harry flanking her on either side.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, "We were in there so long I almost forgot what natural sunlight felt like."

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, Hermione. What were you and Draco talking about in there anyway?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't give me that look!" Hermione exclaimed smacking Harry's arm playfully. "We're talking about _Draco_ here."

Harry looked unconvinced. 

"He has a point. You two _were_ back there a _long_ time." Ron interjected.

Hermione stopped walking and stared at her two friends in fake-outrage. "Honestly, you two! I **_was_** going to treat you two to ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor, for putting up with the trip to Flourish & Blotts, but now I don't think I will--"

Ron and Harry simultaneously latched onto her arms and unleashed their twin, puppy-dog faces on her. Hermione rolled her eyes in an act of annoyance, but couldn't stop herself from smiling. "You two are the biggest babies."

"Works every time."

Hermione laughed good-naturedly and led the way to Fortescue's. Ron and Harry held back and watched their best friend stroll on ahead -- dancing and basking in the warm summer sunlight. The two boys shared a moment of silence as they watched her with eyes unclouded by fake emotions.

Ron turned his face to Harry and gave him a look that told Harry -- without words -- how Ron _really_ felt about Draco **and** what he believed went on between him and their best friend while the two of them were elsewhere.

"Right there with you." Harry muttered back -- but there was no humor in his tone. He turned back to Hermione.

She was skipping down the cobblestone street humming a light and airy tune that automatically made Harry think of summer. Her white knit purse swung carelessly at her side - it's embroidery fringe sashaying back and forth.

She looked back at them over her shoulder and laughed -- caught up in the merriment of the moment. Harry wished he could freeze time so that he could always remember how she looked at that exact point in time. Her legs were long and tan from spending the summer at the beach. The blue of the dress complimented her perfectly. He wanted to remember how the one strap of her dress sliding off her shoulder made her look even more beautiful and carefree. The sunlight shining through her hair made it glow and shimmer as the sausage curls bounced across her shoulders. Her face the perfect-shape, her eyes closed as she laughed, and a smile on her lips. The smile that only she could master and perform - it was earthy, soft, and pure.

She was a goddess.

--

Knowing that he was going to see her again was what had kept Ron going through the painfully long months of summer. If he hadn't already been staring unabashedly at her, he would have anyway after hearing her laugh. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It was the smooth and unforced laugh that let him know how at ease she felt. Even though he had been deprived of her company all summer, that one laugh she gave looking over her shoulder, made up for all of it.

He watched her as she danced and skipped through the streets. She danced for herself and no one else. Sure steps, and certain movements she waltzed gracefully through the crowd. The sun danced for her on her skin making the tan turn to bronze. The wind danced in her hair twisting it into complicated patterns about her face. All nature danced as _she_ danced and she never took notice.

Through everything the trio had been through only **she** had managed to retain the childhood innocence so many wished they could have back. It cloaked in her a warm glow and everyone could see it but her -- just like she was glowing now.

She was an angel.

--

"HERMIONE?!"

Hermione smiled and embraced her fellow Gryffindor "Seamus. How are you?" She sniffed slightly. Musk and white chocolate.

His Irish accent was still strong and thick after all these years, but Hermione had learned to listen passed the accent over the last six years. "Already missing the open hills."

"That's right! You went back to Ireland this summer -- how was it?" She inquired curiously as Harry and Ron caught up with her.

Seamus Finnigan shrugged indifferently, "A lot less crowded, to be sure, but it doesn't compare to be here with you and everyone else."

"Hey Seamus!" Ron greeted giving the shorter boy a high-five. Harry did likewise.

"Boys," Hermione muttered. She was about to ask why they couldn't just hug like girls did, but let it slip as the rest of the group came racing through the crowd.

After greetings had been passed around between the group of friends they made their way to Fortescue's and sat comfortably around the largest table and bantered about their summers. Hermione sat back from the table and listened to her friend's happy voices as they detailed their personal vacations. She stayed out of the conversation, preferring to study her friends without their knowledge.

Sitting directly across from her was Ron, with Lavender and Dean beside him. Then came Seamus and Parvati, and then Neville and Padme. Sitting on either side of her was Ginny and Harry. _They've all changed so much._ She thought sadly to herself. But still -- she couldn't help but feel exceedingly proud that her friends had amounted to be such wonderful people.

She sighed and stirred her straw around her glass. The ice rattled around in the empty cup and she sighed. She saw Harry glance worriedly at her out of the corner of her eye, but the kind gesture only made her feel worse.

_How can I tell them?_

The top of the straw bent beneath her angry fingers. They clenched the plastic so tightly her knuckles were white.

_I can hardly believe it myself._

Her heart thudded painfully against her chest and all the anger; pain and confusion came flooding through her. She didn't know why this was happening. Why did it have to be_ her_? The rage boiled inside of her. Her honey-colored eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, and she was barely conscious of anything else around her. Her nail sliced through the straw and dug into the flesh of her palm.

"Hermione?"

She came hurtling back to reality so fast she almost got whiplash. Her friends were staring at her in concern. She swallowed slowly and willed her face not to redden. "I must've spaced off..." She mumbled as an excuse.

Her heart wouldn't stop pounding.

"Do you want me to get you some more lemonade?" Harry asked, placing a hand on hers.

**_BaduumBaduum...Baduum..._**

She wrenched her hand from his and practically leapt to her feet. She fumbled to push the chair away from the table so she could stand without toppling over. Her eyes darted around the table.

She saw concern...worry...

Her eyes glanced at Harry and her pounding heart cracked. He looked so hurt. His emerald eyes slowly raised to meet hers, but she couldn't stand to look at the emotion in them and she ripped her gaze away.

"I-I'll get it myself..." She whispered.

**_BaduumBaduumBaduumBaduum_**

With her glass gripped tightly in her hand she staggered away from the table. She walked a few steps, but had to stop to regain her balance against a table. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She took a shaky step forward and the glass slipped from her hands and shattered on the pavement.

"Shit..." She muttered. She heard the chairs behind her grating harshly against the concrete and the hurried footsteps of her friends. Her knees buckled and her hand slipped off the edge of the table. Thankfully she was unconscious before her falling body impacted the hard ground that was rushing up to meet her.

--

"I'm all right you guys...really." Hermione accepted the cool rag Ron offered and held it to her forehead. "The heat was just getting to me. That's all."

She turned to Harry and smiled, "I guess I did need some more lemonade after all." Harry smiled too, and Hermione visibly relaxed at his silent forgiveness.

"You shouldn't let yourself get so dehydrated, 'Mione." Ginny scolded. She stole the rag from Hermione's grasp and leaned over her friend so she could dab the cool sloth along her temples.

"Thank you, Ginny." She told the girl in a quieter voice. The redhead paused her ministrations and looked down at the older woman smiling softly up at her. Ginny grinned and two light spots of blush appeared on her cheeks.

"It's nothing..." She mumbled and busied herself with cooling Hermione's face.

Hermione curled her feet around the legs of the metal stool she was sitting upon. She turned to Ron and Harry, but addressed all three of them. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to give you a fright."

"Don't worry about it." Ron insisted, leaning against the counter of Fortescue's.

She meant to grin at him, but she was only halfway through the action before she winced and stopped. Her lip had gotten cut open when she hit the pavement and it hurt like hell.

"Here. I can fix that." Harry pulled out his wand and slid his stool closer towards her. Holding it close to her mouth his whispered some words, Hermione couldn't quite catch. Looking down she watched a blue light spark from the tip of the wooden tool and instantly a tingling numbness covered her lip.

She squeezed her eyes as the warm magic tickled. When she opened them again Harry's bright green eyes were only inches apart. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched emotions she couldn't quite place dart across the pools of jade. He drew his wand back from where it had been resting lightly on her bottom lip and moved his thumb up to graze her lips gingerly.

Her eyes never left him.

"All better." He whispered more to himself than Hermione.

"Thanks." She replied. Her lips pressed against his thumb as she spoke and he quickly withdrew it. Hermione's eyes darted to his hand. They were shaking as he put his wand away.

Recovering quickly Hermione started to turn and open her mouth to ask Ron something, but stopped short. Ron was staring at her. His gaze was so hard it made her shrink back in surprise. She glanced up at Ginny, but the younger girl was just as confused as she was. Her own gaze kept darting in between Harry and her brother. Ginny looked down at Hermione and then back up at the two boys.

Hermione was immediately uncomfortable. The silence stretched on and their stares became harder to bare. Finally she slid off the stool and grabbed her purse. "I'm late." She said in a rush. "I'll see you guys on the train."

"I'll walk you." Ron offered snapping out of the daze he had been in.

Hermione shook her head firmly, "That's ok, I brought my car anyway."

"You're still weak Hermione. You should rest a while longer." Harry insisted standing up.

Hermione took a step back. "I will see you both tomorrow." She repeated, and walked out of the outside dining area of the Ice Cream Parlor and out into the dazzling sunlight.

Ginny hopped off of her barstool and slid a bar of pink, stylishly over-sized sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. She stopped in between Harry and Ron who where still staring at Hermione's retreating form.

She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and hit them both upside the head before she too jogged out onto the busy streets of Diagon Alley.

--

I hope you like it! Kisses!

KissThis


	3. The Sovereign of Light

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Three: The Sovereign of Light

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: I'm leaning a certain way...may change - who knows?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

Summary: Hermione. Is. Dying. She doesn't know when, but it's a depressing inevitability. Can she summon the strength to tell her friends? And what of all the things she's never going to get to do? Can she get her life in order before it's over? You'll have to read, now won't you?

--

Disclaimer: *throws a tantrum* I never get to own _anything!_ It's not fair!

--

A/N: Ok, I've seen other people doing this and it looked pretty cool. **If you are the 34th reviewer, then I will dedicate the next chapter to you and if you suggest an object I will use it in the story. Any type of object or suggestion is welcome.**

Woah! This chapter we are getting a serious plot line going! Yay me!

--

WMWMWMWMW

Hermione dropped her keys onto the counter top with a clatter. Fumbling beneath one of her kitchen cabinets she flipped a switch and a pale fluorescent light flickered on, illuminating the small space around it. She reached over her head and pulled open one of the white wood cabinets.

It wasn't until a few moments later, when Hermione was popping some pills into her mouth and chasing them down with cold water, that she noticed the red light flashing on her answering machine. She lowered the glass and swiped her moistened lips with the back of her hand. Taking a moment to deliberate on the pros and cons of listening to the message she went over the possibilities in her head.

Con - It could be Harry...or Ron, or any one of her friends. They had to have noticed something wasn't right. Pro- It could be her aunt calling to check up on her. Con-

"Oh, screw it..." Hermione muttered and pressed the button.

_"Hi, hunny - it's your Aunt Sarah."_

Hermione grinned.

_"I'm just calling to check up on you."_

Her smile widened at her accurate prediction.

_"It's only been a month since you've moved out, but I already miss you. The house seems so empty without you in it. I'd beg you to come back to stay, but I'm sure you finished unpacking ages ago."_

Hermione glanced around sheepishly at her apartment. Half-filled boxes were littered everywhere. She looked back at the machine and reddened in embarrassment at the half-eaten box of pizza sitting beside it.

_"Besides, you're going back to that Hogwarts school of yours tomorrow, aren't you? Well, I also wanted to tell you I love you. I know you've had a tough time since..."_

There was a pause here, and Hermione could faintly hear the rustling of tissue as her aunt lost her composure.

_"...since your parents died. And especially after the doctor's told you you had--"_

A sickening explosion drowned out her aunt's words. Groaning in frustration, Hermione yanked open the microwave door and dumped the nuked t.v. dinner into the trash.

She set down the glass of water and was just starting to clean out the mash-potato-covered microwave when her machine beeped again.

_"Hermione..."_

She froze.

_"It's Draco."_

She dropped the rag. In a panicky way she leapt at the phone and tried to cut off the message before her could continue, but Draco was already going on.

_"Dumbledore owled me this after informing me of the new prefects for this year."_

She let out an audible sigh of relief. Something school-related. There was a tapping on her window and she opened it quickly. A tawny owl, she immediately recognized as being one of the school's, shot through it and landed easily beside her sink.

_"I don't know if you've gotten an owl from him yet, but I wanted to congratulate you, all the same. The prefects are supposed to meet on the train. Some of the teachers will be there to talk with us. I'll see you tomorrow."_

Hermione relieved the owl of its burden and it gave a small squawk before swooping back out the window. She tore the seal of wax imprinted with Hogwarts' emblem and opened the envelope, pulling out a letter decorated with Dumbledore's precise handwriting.

After hearing Draco's message Hermione only scanned the brief letter. She was going to be the Gryffindor prefect and Draco was to be Slytherin's. Padme and Hannah were the prefects for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively. When she was sure she had read everything of relevance Hermione set the letter down on the counter. Letting out a loud sigh she completely bypassed the rag and water and cleaned up the microwave using a simple cleaning spell. Once that task had been accomplished she set about packing her things for Hogwarts.

--

A man stared down at a still pool of water at his feet. His robes were heavy and thick and the cowl of his cloak kept his face in complete shadow. He made no sound. He made no movement. But still his mere presence was oppressive. He smelled of death. 

A whimper. 

Another man was crouched in frightened reverence behind the robed figure. His pudgy cheeks were smudged with grime and greasy strands of dirty brown hair fell over his unclean face. Standing out against his dull brown robes was a dimly glowing silver hand that swirled and radiated with magic. He kept both of his hands wrapped about his knees, all the while glancing up at the motionless figure standing before him. He smelled of fear.

The shadowed figure took a step forward. Beneath the hood his eyes glowed the color of blood and the water below began to bubble. The cowering man whimpered in terror and shrunk away from the boiling pool of water.

"Silence Wormtail." The shadowed man hissed. His voice was grating, harsh and reptilian. Wormtail nodded violently and bit his lip to stay quiet as his master had ordered.

A scaled hand raised out of the expanse of robe and cloak. Instantly the water ceased its tumultuous actions and became calm once again. The blue pool flashed brilliant white and when it died down a picture was placed in the water.

A violent battle raged upon bloodstained hills before a stone fortress. Good versus Evil. The shadowed man watched as wave after wave of black robed witches and wizards crashed upon the "fighters of _justice_." Time and time again his warriors would beat back their enemies, but each time the forces of "good" would rally together and retaliate, pushing his followers back farther than they had been pushed.

He watched himself standing in the battlefield. A single flick of his wand and five more were dead. Dumbledore's perfect warriors fell at his feet and he crushed their bodies into the dust. All the death he caused had no effect on them. They surged forward and trampled down the front line of his army.

"Why do they continue to fight?" He hissed as he watched his perfect plans for taking over the world crumble before him. He couldn't let some snot-nosed kids still in school defeat the most powerful wizard of all time.

Water swirled upwards in a pillar beside the carnage-filled image. It flowed away revealing the water sprite of the pool at which he scryed. Only her waist on up was visible above the water -- she was made of the water that she guarded. Her bare body shifted and flowed like waves confusing the eyes that watched her. Her slender arms moved about her as if they had a mind of their own -- twisting and turning with hypnotic rhythm. The nymph's long and luxurious hair floated about her face as if under the water is was made of. A strand flowed past her face with empty, hollow eyes.

The shadowed man was unfazed. She had appeared to him before when he had used her pool for another such purpose.

"It is because of _her_." The nymph's words were slow and flowing like the element she commanded. She had a voice that was as alluring and hypnotic as the sultry motions of her arms and hands.

One of those such hands reached out and her long fingers grazed the water where the image of battle rested. The fighting rippled like the water around it and then things blurred and their vision was speeding backwards to the back line of Dumbledore's fighters. Their view crept up the gray stones of the fortress and when they broke the top of the castle they rested on a young woman.

"It is _she_ that they fight for. The love for her is strong -- I can feel it." The nymph purred and stroked her own arms with grazing fingertips.

The shadowed man turned back to the young woman standing atop the battlements of the castle. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she stared out at the pain and suffering with angry defiance. Chestnut curls fluttered behind her as the wind blew it from her face, and amber eyes framed in ebony lashes gazed straight out across the battlefield. She wore a simple white, silk dress that seemed to be made of a single swatch of fabric. It flowed over her curves and her arms without a single knot or stitch.

"This _girl_ is the reason they fight?"

The nymph shook her head slowly and cerulean tresses slid smoothly across her blank face, "Do not let simple appearances deceive you, my Lord Voldemort." She gestured at the woman again. "Such a pure heart housed in this beautiful body is what instills the love of millions and spurs them onward against unimaginable odds. It **is** she who is their pillar of strength."

She ran a hand across her chest. "Her purity and goodness..." She purred again in contentment and closed her hollow eyes, "It feels so warm--"

"That's enough, Postvorta."*

Her eyes snapped back open. Any other being would have recoiled in fear, but the nymphs of the water held no fear of the creatures that walked upon the land.

"So _she_ is the reason that I will lose?" He hissed.

Postvorta narrowed her eyes at his clipped voice, "Yes." She replied in the same tone.

Red eyes narrowed, "You better not be lying to me, nymph."

An empty threat.

"You know as well as I that I am incapable of telling a lie." She reminded him. Her own hollow eyes flashed.

"That is why I have already set in motion her death."

Postvorta nodded her head, "Then I take my leave of you. But heed this ancient prophecy."

"I don't believe in the prophecies of babbling old Fates." Voldemort hissed.

The normally placid nymph snarled at his insolence showing just how much she wanted to be helping him, "The Fates had already begun to **Be** before you were even born, _human_. There hasn't been a single prophecy that has failed to Be." Her tone was icy, "Do not forget -- I only aid you because of my clan's debt to you. You hold no sway over the nymphs of the water. Your power and your magics do not frighten me."

She hissed at the man, baring pointed teeth that had before now been unseen and unknown. "Heed the prophecy the Fates have given me, _human_ or this scrying pool will no longer be open to you..."

__

"The sands of time have begun to pour

And the final battle is drawing near

The ancient battle will be waged

Good and Dark; hope and fear

The Black will kill them all

So many minds It steals

Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies

'Till they no longer know what's real

But a tiny hope still burns

From love and strength and purity

The heart within the woman

Who leads them with true certainty

She loves them all with all her heart

She guides them to the light

She calms them and She soothes them

With words they know are right

He goads his fighters into rage

He drives them into pain 

He mocks them and He does not care 

That bodies fall like rain 

He works them when they're weary

And He rebukes them when they fail 

Cuts them to ribbons with his tongue

As they stand meek and pale

Kindness and compassion

Suffering and hate

Opposites like these--

Enemies by Fate.

The White will find them all

It will bring them to their knees

The light, the hope, the heart

It swallows all it sees

Amber eyes will burn him

They burn His evil core

The flames devour sins

The pain He can't ignore

The goddess and the devil

His body falls to red

The angel and the wizard

And the evil Lord is dead."

Her arms stopped their movement and she dove back into the pool, disrupting the water and dispelling the image on the surface. The ripples quickly ceased and the water became calm again.

"Insolent nymph."

----

"As prefects you will be organizing the balls for Halloween, Christmas, New Year's, and Valentine's Day." McGonagall informed them.

Hermione grinned excitedly and glanced over to see Padme and Hannah wearing similar expressions of anticipation. Draco looked mildly interested as he poured himself a glass of water, which, when translated into _normal_ facial expressions meant he was just as excited as the rest of them were.

Snape, who had taken up a scowling position in the corner of the abnormally large train compartment, stood up. Hermione watched as he crossed the room looking as though he _really_ didn't want to be here. But ever since the students had **insisted** on joining the fight against Voldemort he had become less unresponsive and somber. It was only in the presence of his colleagues, the "Golden Trio", or Draco that he truly let his shields down.

Hermione studied him thoughtfully. He looked so..._tired_. The war against Voldemort had affected him more so than most of the people at the school. His cover as a spy had been blown when he had stepped in with Draco to kill Lucius and several other Death Eaters during one of their raids. She compulsively glanced down at his wrist. The thick, black robes that were his customary attire prevented her from seeing what she was looking for, but she knew without sight that the Dark Mark was still emblazoned on his forearm. 

Her heart ached for him.

_I bet it still hurts..._

He was no longer the greasy Professor that made Potions the most dreaded class period throughout the entire school. He was just a man who had suffered more pain and seen more horrors that most couldn't even fathom.

"Being a school prefect isn't all fun and games," His voice was solemn. "--especially now. All the balls are to help provide the students with a distraction. In addition to organizing these events, the four of you and the Heads will be teaching the other students to fight and to defend themselves in battle. There's no telling when the final battle will begin."

"_I_ know."

Hermione had only blinked in surprise and already Snape had his wand out and was moving into a position where he could better protect the prefects. McGonagall joined Snape's side and together the scanned the compartment for danger.

Dumbledore, predictably knowing something they did not, remained sitting in his seat and popped a Lemon Head into his mouth.

A giant jet of water burst out of the cup Draco was holding and he dropped it to the floor in surprise. The plume of water separated from the cup and circled around Draco's shoulders gradually taking the shape of a girl. Hermione watched as the water nymph easily pushed her way between her two teachers and flew straight at her. She pulled back in fear, but the girl came to a stop a few inches before the seat Hermione was sitting in.

"I am Postvorta -- the water nymph who guards the scrying pool to the north of this place."

Hermione bowed her head respectfully. The nymph was startled by the reverence the girl showed to her kind. Postvorta smiled.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"I know."

Hermione looked at the nymph in surprise.

"It is you that I have come to speak with," Postvorta explained. "The fate of the world hinges on the purity you hold in your heart."

She placed a watery hand upon Hermione's breast; over her heart, but Hermione wasn't the least bit embarrassed or shocked at the touch. The nymph's desolate blue eyes bored into her amber ones as Hermione's chest began to tingle.

"_You_ are the champion of this world."

The entire room was staring in rapt fascination and listening anxiously to the nymph's slow and precise flow of words. It was an odd picture. Hermione sat on her chair staring up in utter bewilderment at Postvorta with her hands clutching the sides of her seat. The nymph stood before the brunette with a hand upon the other girl's breast. Her body continued to shift and change its naked appearance, but her haunting eyes stayed locked on Hermione.

It was all Hermione could do to shake her head minutely in denial beneath the nymph's penetrating gaze.

"Harry Potter isn't strong enough to save this world. He was made to Be by the Fates so that time could be bought for you to grow stronger. All the events of the past are leading up to the moment when you harness your power and defeat Him."

"I don't have any power." Hermione insisted.

"It has been...hidden." Postvorta replied, "Until it is needed will it then reveal itself to you."

"I can't be a champion, no one--"

"In a mere matter of time, there will be _no one_ that doesn't know your name. You will come to be called by many names: The Savior, The Messiah, The Sovereign of Light -- you will be the wielder of **ultimate power**."

"How do you know this?" Hermione whispered in disbelief.

"I am a nymph of prophecies...the Fates channel their powers through me so that I may help this mortal world." Postvorta removed her hand from Hermione's chest and immediately the pleasant tingling disappeared. Her robes were as dry as they'd ever been and there was no sign that a creature of water had touched her.

"Listen closely, Champion. No matter what you say or what you do there is nothing in this lifetime that you can do to dissuade Fate. The pureness of your heart shines like a beacon. The metaphysical creatures of the world can already feel it and they are flocking to your warmth and light. And when you reach your true power there is no one that will be able to hide from the love and hope inside you. Whether consciously or subconsciously there is not a single good being on this _entire_ planet that **does not** love you."

Without giving her a chance to speak Postvorta went on, "It is because of this love that the forces of good will not stop until Voldemort is dead forever. It will fuel their passion, their desire, and their will. It won't be family or friends that they think of as they go into battle -- It will be you. _You_ are the pillar of strength for the good beings in this world."

"There's one flaw in your belief. _I'm_ d--" Hermione hesitated and looked around at the people staring fixedly at her. This wasn't how she wanted to tell everyone. It had to come out sooner or later. "I'm _dying_."

There was a sharp inhalation of breath around the room; even from Dumbledore. She felt Draco stiffen beside her. Seeking out his hand she grabbed a hold of it quickly and intertwined her fingers with his. She squeezed it to reassure herself that there was someone with her.

The nymph glanced at their joined hands before she shook her head and her silky tendrils of hair rippled behind her, "You _cannot_ die -- you are the Sovereign of Light."

"I'm sorry, but--"

Hermione's protest was cut short by a water finger on her lips. 

"I know of your sickness. Voldemort put it there."

"Voldemort? _He _did this to me?"

"Yes, he knows that you are the Sovereign of Light. He placed this disease upon your heart because if you die than Voldemort's plan of destruction will come to pass."

"How can it be stopped?" Draco asked evenly.

The nymph turned slowly to face him. Her head cocked to one side as she studied him. Finally she spoke, "His magics are too powerful and too complex. They have already woven a web of death around her heart. When her strength gives out it will wrap around her and her heart will cease to beat."

"There must be something we can do," Draco insisted. The teachers were looking at him in surprise while Padme and Hannah were still trying to sort through the nymph's words. "You said it yourself -- _you said_ she couldn't die."

"Silence _human_," She hissed dangerously. "Do you not think that I would do anything that I could if it meant saving her?! Do you not think that I would lay my life down in an instant if that could keep her from death's grasp?!"

She turned her head to face him again, "You would do the same........I can see it in your eyes -- I can feel it in your heart." She said in a calmer voice.

"_She_ is the only one who can save her now. The power of light that is inside her soul is the only thing strong enough to erase Voldemort's soiling touch upon her heart."

Postvorta turned back to Hermione who had been watching this exchange with mixed feelings. A creature she barely knew was willing to sacrifice her life for her. Draco...did his feelings for her go beyond friendship?

"I'm sorry that I have to drop this upon you and leave, but I must inform my clan of the plans being put into motion." Reaching into her chest Postvorta pulled out a silver jeweled necklace. Dangling on the end was small crystal teardrop filled with clear, blue waters.

"It is filled with a drop of water from the scrying pool that I guard. If you have need of me you need only to whisper my name to it and I will come."

Hermione nodded and fastened the necklace about her throat. "Travel safe, Postvorta."

"Safe journeys to you as well. Be careful Sovereign, the enemy has many spies...birds...beasts..."

Hermione nodded. Postvorta summoned herself together and hurled herself at Hermione's chest where she disappeared into the tiny crystalline holder of Hermione's necklace.

Hermione raised her amber gaze to find the room's occupants staring at her in a mix of shock, horror, and expectation.

"Oh dear."

-------------

Wow! I was going to go in a totally different direction than this, but I just had this epiphany last night and it's gonna be frelling awesome!!!! Anyway...if you're confusedI'm sorry. I tried to make everything as clear as possible, but if you still don't get it hopefully it'll be cleared up in a future chapter.

REVIEW!!!

(I think it was just a great idea to make Hermione the hero for once...and I don't think anyone has thought of this plot line...not that I've read. And if they have - screw you 'cuz mine is gonna be better!!!)

*Postvorta -- she was a Camenae, one of the prophetic nymphs of Greek Mythology. She knew the future, while her sister Antevorta knew the past.

I think that clears everything up... and remember: **If you are the 34th reviewer, then I will dedicate the next chapter to you and if you suggest an object I will use it in the story. Any type of object or suggestion is welcome.**

KissThis


	4. The Fate of the Order of the Phoenix

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Four: The Fate of the Order of the Phoenix 

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: By your opinions you want it to either be H/Hr or D/Hr

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

Summary: Hermione. Is. Dying. She doesn't know when, but it's a depressing inevitability. Can she summon the strength to tell her friends? And what of all the things she's never going to get to do? Can she get her life in order before it's over? You'll have to read, now won't you?

--

Disclaimer: My house burned down and I lost the documents proving that I owned Harry Potter. *shrugs* Oh well...

The kickass plot IS mine.

--

Hermione took her usual place in between Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table. Nervously she patted down her pleated skirt and brushed the hair from her face. "Dumbledore has called a meeting of the Phoenix. We're to go to his office after dinner." She told them in a hushed whisper.

"What's going on?" Harry asked seriously.

Hermione took a deep breath, "Something's..._happened_."

Reluctant to pursue the argument where they might be overheard, Harry dropped it. Ron looked between his two friends for a moment longer and then he turned to face the teacher's table where the first years were all ready being sorted.

Hermione didn't even hear the hat sing the sorting song it had spent all last year composing. She didn't clap when more first years were sorted into Gryffindor. Her amber eyes were fixed on the tablecloth traversing its faint patterns with her gaze.

_How can _I_ be the "Sovereign of Light"? _She thought as the welcoming feast appeared before her. _We'd always pegged Harry for being the Golden Boy. He's the one who has had all the training! Hell, even Ron had more battle training than I did._

She viscously attacked a pork chop with her fork.

_No one thought that _I_ could be of any help in the battle against Voldemort. Will any of them ever know that the brilliant war tactics Harry devised were really my creations? I always worked behind the scenes -- the _real_ genius behind Harry and Ron._

She paused and set down the piece of bread that had been traveling to her mouth.

_Would anyone even believe it?_

She was suddenly very aware of the eyes watching her. Harry kept shooting furtive and worried glances at her since she hadn't eaten at all throughout dinner. She felt Hannah behind her trying not to stare at her from the Hufflepuff table. Padme was deep in thought, but every once in a while she would look up at Hermione. Over her was Draco. He was blatantly staring at her all through the meal. She even knew that her teachers were watching her from the head table.

Her heart started to pound in her chest.

**_Baduum...Baduum...Baduum..._**

_What if it **is** true? Could I handle that? They expect me to be this perfect being that will save them from the dark forces. What if I can't do it? All those people's lives would rest on my shoulders. If I do something wrong, hundreds of people could **die**. Oh my God..._

She looked up and her frightened eyes locked with blue-gray. Her wide amber eyes were dilated and her complexion was ashen. Draco was worried. He started to stand, but Hermione shook her head quickly.

**_Baduum...Baduum...Baduum..._**

"I _can't_ do this..." She mumbled making Ron and Harry look at her in surprised confusion.

Dumbledore had just stood up to make a few more announcements regarding the beginning school year, when Hermione leapt out of her chair. The sudden movement made her dinnerware rattle and her goblet of pumpkin juice tipped over.

"Hermione?!" Harry exclaimed as he and Ron immediately tried to stop the juice spill from spreading.

She tripped over the bench in her haste to get up and almost fell flat on her face. Stumbling a few steps she regained her balance and tore out of the Great Hall. There was a clattering from the Slytherin table as Draco dropped his silverware and stood up. Aware that the entire dining room was staring at him in curiosity he had to resist the urge to sprint after the Gryffindor. With quick and long strides he exited the Great Hall as well, moments later.

----

He found her at the end of the hallway. She leaned with her back to the wall, breathing heavily. The hanging lanterns about her head created an orange halo around her curls. The light lasted a little while longer and then the black of her robes made the rest of her body invisible in the shadow.

She didn't say anything when he stopped in front of her and pulled her into his arms -- she just started to cry. He held her body tight to his and stroked her back soothingly. The tears running down her face dripped off her checks and soaked into the coarse material of his Hogwarts robe.

"I-I can't do this..." She hiccuped, burying her face in his chest. "They think I'm something I'm not..."

Her hands clutched the back of his robe and she held onto him for dear life. Draco rested his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. They were holding each other so tightly, he thought they would melt in to one person any minute. He could feel her shoulders trembling and her legs shaking and her back quivering.

"I can't lead these people. If I make a mistake hundreds of people are going to die!"

"Listen to me, Hermione."

She released a handful of his robes so she could wipe away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. She took a step back so that her eyes, red from crying could look into his, and she didn't seem to mind that his hands remained around her waist.

"_You _are the best person I have ever met. You're pretty, you're smart, you're funny, you're kind, sweet, innocent, stubborn, determined, clever, quick-witted, loyal, trustworthy, honest -- all these things and many more are what make you the person you are. Postvorta was right -- you _are_ the only person strong enough to bring us through this battle. You are too stubborn and too intelligent to let yourself make a mistake. I know that you will stop at nothing until to you find a plan with the least amount of casualties. You have a beautiful soul and pure heart and there is _nothing_ in this world that can stop you -- because you won't let anything stand in the way of saving the people you love. In fact.......I can't think of anyone I'd rather have lead me into battle.....then _you_."

Not really the reaction he had been expecting she started to cry again. "That had to be the nicest, sweetest, most beautiful thing anyone had _ever_ said to me." She said through her tears. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Draco released her waist and sought out her hand, "Dumbledore and the others are waiting for us."

Hermione nodded and he waited for her to cast a quick glamour over her face to remove the tearstains and puffy eyes, before they started off together towards the Headmaster's office.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry demanded.

Dumbledore peered at the impetuous young man over his favorite pair of half-moon spectacles; "Mr. Malfoy is bringing her. And until they arrive I suggest that the rest of you sit tight."

"Albus!" Sirius Black exclaimed, "You called this emergency meeting saying nothing more than 'Help has been found', and you want us to _sit tight_?"

It was definite that others of the room's occupants felt the same, but they were not as brazen as Sirius. Dumbledore made a 'tsk'ing sound in the back of his throat.

"I realize your impatience Sirius, but it is necessary that Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger are here before we start the meeting."

Sirius was about to say more, but the grating of stone against stone cut him off as the Gryphon-guarded staircase leading to Dumbledore's office sprang into life. The already assembled members of the Order of the Phoenix watched the doorway anxiously; Draco entered first pulling Hermione in after him.

"Finally," Sirius muttered. "Now Dumbledore what is this help you have found?"

"A prophecy has been foretold that the Sovereign of Light -- a being with a pure heart -- will arise and defeat the Dark Lord." The room turned and looked at Harry. Draco however snorted in contempt.

"I don't know _why_ you're all looking at Harry. _He's_ certainly no champion."

Hermione shot him a scared look before the room whirled around to face the two of them. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and took a deep breath.

"Mind your attitude, Malfoy." Percy warned through clenched teeth.

"Hush, Percy." Molly Weasley reprimanded. She gave Draco an encouraging smile, "Go ahead dear."

"Yes Malfoy, _enlighten_ us. Who do you and Miss Granger believe is this so called 'Sovereign of Light'?"

"Professor..." Hermione began weakly. Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps Postvorta will be able to explain better than I."

"Very well, Miss Granger. Proceed."

Draco's hand squeezed hers one last time before he relinquished his grasp and let her stand. Silently praying that this would work, Hermione's hands went to the chain around her neck. She cupped the crystal decanter in her hands and whispered to it. "Postvorta, my friend. I request your presence."

They didn't have very long to wait before the devoted nymph barreled out of the necklace. Floating in front of Hermione, Postvorta bowed her head in reverence, "I am here milady."

"Albus?" Remus questioned quietly.

"I would appreciate it if you would direct your inquiries to me, Remus." Hermione interrupted smoothly, "It was I who summoned her here."

Remus smiled -- accepting her statement as what it was, "I apologize, Hermione."

Postvorta circled around Hermione dragging a watery arm across the brunette's shoulders. "It's already surfacing within you." She rested her head next to Hermione's. "Are you afraid?"

Hermione felt the tingling that came with the nymph's touch flowing through her, but already she sensed something stirring inside her and rising to meet the nymph's power. She stared down the people around her with a solemn and deadpan expression. Destiny and Fate had begun to weave a throbbing web of light around her and she could feel the power it created taking shape inside of her. She felt sure, "No." She answered with calm certainty.

Postvorta's voice was singsong. "Then tell them."

Hermione swallowed. All her doubt and all her fear had been swept away the moment she had stood up before the Order. The practical world she had built up around herself was being quickly and methodically torn down. And when no walls were left...the light would consume her.

Their expectant faces were fixed on her awaiting the time when she would speak. The people she was destined to lead...

"_I_ am the Sovereign of Light."

Silence...and then,

"Surely you jest."

Postvorta let out a banshee like shriek and launched herself over Hermione's shoulder and straight at Sirius. With fangs bared and long icy claws reaching to tear him apart it had to be one of the most frightening things Sirius had ever seen.

"**Stop!**"

The nymph froze in her sudden attack only inches from Sirius' terrified face. He held his breath.

"You are lucky to be alive, _human_." She hissed, "If you ever insult to Sovereign in my presence again, not even _Her_ word will stop me from...slitting your throat." A watery hand snaked out and grabbed his neck to emphasis the threat.

"Do not provoke the nymph, Black. Her loyalties run deeper than you can even imagine." Snape spoke from his place beside the entrance. When Sirius turned to face him he saw something he couldn't place glittering in the man's obsidian eyes. "Do you know how long they've known each other?" He went on.

A shake of his head and a dumb expression.

"It can't be more than a few hours..."

Murmurs spread through the summoned Order.

"Do not harm him." Hermione ordered -- and Postvorta retreated back to her side. "He speaks out of love for his godson..._and_ mistrust."

"He doesn't believe that a _girl_ would be strong enough to be the Champion." Postvorta murmured to her.

Hermione fixed penetrating amber eyes on Harry's godfather not knowing that her gaze was even making others recoil in awe. "No?" She said slowly. She turned her eyes away and Sirius collapsed into a chair - not knowing how he had managed to stay standing. "Perhaps not."

"Let no more ill words be spoken," Dumbledore insisted quietly. "Postvorta is a prophetic nymph of the Camenae clan. The Fates channel their power through her and grant her sight into the future. The prophecy, Postvorta?"

Postvorta nodded and recited the words she had divulged to Lord Voldemort only a few hours prior...

__

"The sands of time have begun to pour

And the final battle is drawing near

The ancient battle will be waged

Good and Dark; hope and fear

The Black will kill them all

So many minds It steals

Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies

'Till they no longer know what's real

But a tiny hope still burns

From love and strength and purity

The heart within the woman

Who leads them with true certainty

She loves them all with all her heart

She guides them to the light

She calms them and She soothes them

With words they know are right

He goads his fighters into rage

He drives them into pain 

He mocks them and He does not care 

That bodies fall like rain 

He works them when they're weary

And He rebukes them when they fail 

Cuts them to ribbons with his tongue

As they stand meek and pale

Kindness and compassion

Suffering and hate

Opposites like these--

Enemies by Fate.

The White will find them all

It will bring them to their knees

The light, the hope, the heart

It swallows all it sees

Amber eyes will burn him

They burn His evil core

The flames devour sins

The pain He can't ignore

The goddess and the devil

His body falls to red

The angel and the wizard

And the evil Lord is dead."

"This is She." Draco said boldly into the silence that followed.

"Now will you believe, _humans_? Will you follow?" Postvorta hissed at witches and wizards that stood before them.

Harry stood slowly. With all eyes of the room locked on him he crossed over to where Hermione stood. He planted a kiss on her cheek and let his hand rest on her shoulder.

"I will follow her." He said. "I must tell you -- all of the battle plans and strategies Ron and I have presented to the Order were, truthfully, designed by Hermione. The credit is due to her and not I...I have not the head for war." He confessed.

Sirius was taken aback by his godson's admittance of deception, but remained silent. Remus studied his friend out of the corner of his eye. Ron moved to stand beside Harry -- Hermione felt a surge of warmth pulse through her as her best friends stood before the Order in defense and support of _her_. Draco's comforting and steadying presence remained strong on her other side.

"A band of children is going to lead us into the mouth of hell..." A man whispered from the back -- it was Amos Diggory.

"Not only will I lead you _into it_, Amos -- but when it freezes over...I will lead you _all_ back out." Her amber eyes glowed.

"Will the Order join together with Her?" Draco asked.

As Dumbledore scanned the weary-lined faces of the witches and wizards that had desperately banned together to save the world, he saw something shining in their eyes that he'd thought died long ago. He turned his wizened eyes to his students. Hermione's eyes seemed to bore into each and every one of them. It was She that had stirred It into life -- igniting it with her flaming amber gaze.

A swell of pride filled him as he watched his students take a stand against the older generation. He had taught them to fight back -- to stand for their convictions and beliefs. He had taught them to fight together.

But soon their love for each other wouldn't be enough -- the prophecy had decreed it. Hermione must do it alone...

He looked at her now, surrounded by friends; humans and creatures alike. This was the woman who had sparked to life the hope inside the Order of the Phoenix.

"It is decided then." He said quietly into the omniscient quiet. "We will follow."

Read and Review! I'm so excited about this story -- I just can't stop writing!

I have all these ideas just poring in so I can't wait to type them up.

I hope you like this story as much as I do!

XOXO

KissThis


	5. A Brand New Day

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Five: A Brand New Day

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: By your opinions you want it to either be H/Hr or D/Hr

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I was the one who came up with Harry Potter, but J.K. stole all my notes when I was baking brownies. *pouts*

--

Comforting maroon and gold overwhelmed Hermione as she slowly crossed the threshold of the Gryffindor common room to the portrait leading to the prefect dorms. The gold-gilded frame held a painting of a young couple standing atop a building in Paris. Dark cloaks covered each of them making their features indiscernible, and in the background the Eiffel Tower glowed faintly with twinkling fairy lights against the evening sky. 

"Password?" The girl asked twisting in the arms of her boyfriend.

"Crystal Waters" Hermione whispered in an undertone.

The door swung open revealing the golden interior of Hermione's private room.

"Are you gonna be ok?" Ron asked.

She leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest looking completely drained. The powerful, awe-inspiring young woman who had stood proudly before the Order with her strength circling about her was now sunken back inside the tired, young schoolgirl of seventeen years.

She exhaled slowly and brushed a strand of mahogany away from her face, "It doesn't really matter if I'm ok or not, does it? There's nothing anyone can do either way."

Harry looked up at her earnestly through his black bangs, "I don't envy you, 'Mione." He admitted easily. "I was in the spotlight, if wrongly so, for just a short time. But even so...it's gonna be tough on you."

Hermione ran her hands up and down her forearms in an unconscious attempt to rub heat back into her goosebumped flesh. "I know."

"But you've got us." Ron insisted determinedly, "You won't be doing it alone."

Hermione closed her eyes. That was the thing...she _was_ alone. They couldn't help her do this; no one could. But Ron looked so vehement about staying with her that she kept her piece.

"Thank you, Ron." She smiled at him, but the three men gathered around her found it not to be of her usual soft and earthy quality. Rather, it was weak and strained. They exchanged glances.

"The meeting left me so tired. I'm going to bed. " She went on in a breathy whisper. "I assume Dumbledore will be making an announcement tonight, and I'd rather be elsewhere."

Draco nodded in understanding, but Ron wasn't so sure. "Do you think that's a wise idea of the Professor? He _must_ know that some of his students are Death Eaters."

Hermione reached out and squeezed the redhead's shoulder. "It doesn't matter, Ron. Voldemort-"

Ron cringed. He was the only one.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Hermione flashed back to when she had first spoken those words to Lucius Malfoy in Flourish & Blotts before the start of her second year.

"Hermione is right," Draco agreed. "It doesn't matter anymore, Voldemort already knows about her --"

" --And he's already started trying to kill me." Hermione finished for him. Her voice was soft -- mirroring the tired look upon her face.

There was no way for any of them to respond to that, so Hermione changed the subject. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Right. Do you mind if I cut through your room? I don't fancy walking the long way to the prefect common room." Draco asked with a smirk.

Hermione laughed -- the first real one they'd heard since she'd arrived at Hogwarts. She smiled and the room instantly brightened and things seemed so much less depressing. "I don't mind at all."

He pushed the portrait open a bit farther and Hermione disappeared inside. Draco gave Harry and Ron a nod and a muttered 'Goodnight' before he slipped in after her. The portrait swung shut slowly after them.

Hermione watched Draco move past her and walk to her door that would lead to the prefect common room. She waited until he had opened the portrait before she turned to her closet.

"Hermione."

She turned around and found Draco to be paused halfway through her doorway. He look unsure and more than mildly uncomfortable, but his blue-gray eyes were unshielded and they were fixed on her. Hermione took his silence and used the time it opened to analyze the feelings and emotions mirrored in his blue-gray eyes.

Her amber eyes glowed, "What are you worried about, Draco?" She asked quietly.

"What isn't there to be worried about?" He replied with a half-hearted smirk.

Hermione nodded her head slowly in agreement while her fingers absently toyed with the golden gauze canopy of her queen bed.

"I know you're worried about me Draco, but--"

"But I can't help it."

Hermione looked up at him through her lashes. Her eyes flickered. She closed them for a time and let out a slow sigh.

"Draco--"

"Don't even think about telling me not to worry 'cuz it's not going to make _any_ difference." Draco stepped back inside and moved to stand next to her.

A thought came to her and Hermione gave a little giggle. "You'll get gray hairs."

Draco couldn't help but smile. "I don't mind."

She reached out and playfully ruffled his platinum blonde hair. "Like you'd be able to tell with _your_ bleached mop."

"Perhaps worry lines?" He suggested good-naturedly.

"And ruin your perfect Malfoy face?" Hermione pretended to look affronted, "It just wouldn't be natural! You should definitely stop worrying about me before the world goes completely topsy-turvy."

Draco leaned in with a smirk and his proximity made her amused laughter fade into weak giggles. 

"Nice try." He whispered, his warm breath making her bangs flutter.

It seemed as if there was something more he wanted to say or do, but when Draco made no move Hermione gave a little laugh and gave him a good shove in the chest. The push sent him gently, yet unmistakably, in the direction of the door.

"We'll just have to break you of that habit," She mused. "Wouldn't want to turn you into a decrepit old man when your only eighteen, now would we?"

Draco tried to muster a smirk, but the seriousness of the matter was finally rearing its unwanted head over the humor and friendly banter. Rather, he barely managed to upturn his lips in the semblance of a smile. "Such a terrifying thought must be the source of many horrifying nightmares dreamt by the female populace."

Hermione couldn't help the snort of scorn and contempt that slipped passed her. He sounded just like the Malfoy she knew he always would be. He could change, of course -- anyone could, but he'd never truly become all sugar and rainbows like someone from _Hufflepuff_.

Hermione snapped back to the present.

"Don't flatter yourself, Draco -- half the _male_ population is dreaming about you, as well."

Draco made a face. "Ew!"

Contrary to Draco's reaction, Hermione found her revelation amusing and wasn't hesitant to show her obvious enjoyment of _his_ obvious discomfort. However, knowing that the minute Draco excused himself form her company she would be collapsing in exhaustion on her bed, she began removing the articles of clothing that could be disposed of without leaving her appearing indecent before her guest. Not that she had any problem being "improperly" dressed -- it was just _impolite_.

She pulled off her thick-striped tie without bothering to unknot it. The robe came next leaving her in her freshly washed and pressed white blouse and gray, pleated skirt.

"Are you one of them?" There was an odd tone to Draco's question that made her instantly suspicious.

"One of who?" She prodded. Her black Mary Jane's were thrown unceremoniously into the corner.

"One of the women who dream about me..."

"You've got to be kidding!" She exclaimed; even though she knew he wasn't. Her woolen-socked heels pressed hard into the floor. Her toes curled around plush maroon carpeting...in fact, being the only maroon thing in the room.

"It's just a simple question."

In order to avoid his gaze, Hermione plopped down on the bed and began to remove the gray stockings from her feet.

"Frankly, _whom_ I dream about is none of your business."

"Is that a yes?"

She spared a glance only to give him a glare. "It _means, _I'm going to bed and that _doesn't_ involve you."

Draco opened his mouth, most likely to make a racy comment about her poor choice of words, but appeared to have thought better of it because he closed it again.

"G'night, Hermione."

She smiled and watched him step through the portrait.

"Sleep well, Draco." She said in turn, and the portrait clicked shut behind him.

Dumbledore did make an announcement but, thankfully, Hermione was asleep for its entirety. She had assumed that it was going to be centered around the fact that totally cooperation was needed and that they should treat her the same as they would any other student; with kindness, respect, and courtesy. Yeah right.

Hermione woke to the plaintive chirping of her brand new alarm clock that sounded more like a strangled pigeon than any mechanical, monotonous alarm beeping she was familiar with. She didn't like it very much, and needless to say that shattered plastic pieces littering her shag carpet were evidence to the theory that a new alarm clock required procuring.

A quick shower and an equally brisk drying spell left her hair a bouncy mass of chestnut curls and her body feeling pleasantly "squeaky-clean". She then dressed swiftly; eager to get down to breakfast and her friends, and yet at the same time dreading running into any of her other schoolmates. Especially with Dumbledore's announcement still fresh in their minds. Well, it was inevitable -- she would've had to face them eventually for classes.

_Everything always seems so.......inevitable_.

Shaking it off, Hermione made sure she had everything for _History of Magic_ before hoisting her satchel onto her shoulder and exiting her room. She opted to leave through the prefect common room remembering Dumbledore had described it as being "close to the Great Hall".

She hadn't yet seen the common area, having retired to her room through the Gryffindor tower the night before. It was coordinated in varying shades of purple with pewter being its metal counterpart. The room was beautifully designed mainly because of its creator's attention to detail. If one looked close enough they would see that the twisted banisters lining the stairs to the private rooms were covered with tiny metallic vines that crawled all the way up and down the length of the staircase. And the carpeted stairs gradually darkened as they twisted upwards until the surveyor wasn't sure if it faded into shadow or was merely dark in color.

Hermione, a perfectionist herself, found this haven of detail quickly becoming like a sanctuary to her.

She finally reached the bottom of the stairwell and took a few steps into the main landing of the room so that she could better study the layout of her new residence. Set in a half-circle before a giant fireplace was four separate loveseats. They were identical with their curved backs and armless sides, but each was made in a different color. Closest to the door was the one in red; for Gryffindor, with her name emblazoned on it in her lesser House color of gold. The sequence continued with blue, then yellow and ending finally with green. The rest of the room was pretty unremarkable. A few bookshelves, some tables, and the four doorways leading to each of the separate House common rooms.

Noting the time Hermione hurried out the door and down to breakfast. Silence descended upon the empty common room until, only moments later, a door opened above the private stairwell. It banged shut and was followed by heavy footfalls on the wine colored stairs. Jumping the last few steps Draco Malfoy unknowingly copied Hermione's footsteps, but exited the common room with a much more sedated pace.

In previous years Dumbledore's announcement would have completely shocked the entire school, but the nearing war had left the school desolate and half-empty. Students disappeared every month, and though Dumbledore tried as hard as he could, only a few were ever found again. She pushed the great doors inward and stepped quickly inside.

Everyone inside looked up at her and, as in most cases, the room's semi-lively conversation died down. But where, in happier times, there would be furtive glances and loudly whispered gossip there were only the lean and haggard faces of people who had gone through a great deal in only a short time. But whether they watched her now in thankfulness, respect, or suspicion she could still see the hope shining faintly within each pair of eyes.

Always in their eyes...

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and continued her journey to the Gryffindor table. As she took her seat in between Harry and Ron she gave the House tables a quick scan. Small pockets of students were seated at each table but separated by large, depressing gaps of empty space -- they no longer had enough students to fill the tables. Hermione swore to herself that this day would be perfectly normal -- be like it would if all of this hadn't happened.

"Dumbledore _did_ make an announcement last night." Ron confirmed scooping scrambled eggs onto his plate. "Did you hear it, 'Mione? Eggs?"

"Thank you. And no. I was already asleep, actually." She finished with the eggs and passed to dish on to Harry.

"It wasn't very interesting," Ron admitted through a mouthful of bacon. "He explained the prophecy and predictably went on about everyone treating you no different and so on. He also said to come to him or any of the teachers if you have any questions."

Hermione snorted, "I have some questions, but I don't think anyone has the answers."

Harry made an indistinct sound of compliance before he gulped down half his goblet of Pumpkin juice. "But at least they can help the other students sort through this right piece of news."

"True." Hermione slowly chewed through her French toast and took another quick glance around at the great hall, "How many didn't come back?" She gestured at the students, but Harry didn't need to motion to know what Hermione was referring to.

"A few. Around a dozen I'd guess. By now most people are resigned to the fact that their children's lives were threatened no matter where they were. At least here they'll be able to continue learning -- maybe stay alive a while longer."

"And Dumbledore is here as well." Hermione added.

Ron grinned and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, "Brownie points for that!"

The trio shared a laugh, glad that once again Ron's humor had saved them from yet another depressing conversation.

Hermione finished eating shortly thereafter and wiped her mouth clean on a white, linen napkin. "History of Magic with Hufflepuff first thing."

Both Harry and Ron groaned loudly followed by Harry's head hitting the tabletop. "Why didn't I let Voldemort kill me..." He lamented dramatically.

Go on! Next Part!

-------------


	6. Pandora's Box

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Six: Pandora's Box

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: By your opinions you want it to either be H/Hr or D/Hr

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I'm supposed to be standing in line RIGHT NOW waiting for Book #5 to come out at 12:01 AM. Maybe I can pretend to be the author and budge to the front...

--

The trio turned into the hallway leading to the _History of Magic_ classroom, but a large commotion had backed up the students from entering the room. Black robed bodies with varying accessories of yellow and maroon where intermingled and crowded around the tiny doorway.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked the crowd. More people turned around than normally would have, but the person who finally answered her was Hannah, ironically enough. 

"There wasn't an accident, thank goodness!" The blonde muttered fervently, "It just seems like no ones moving."

The curiosity that had gotten her thrown down a trap door and petrified by a giant basilisk hadn't died down in the least, and it was driving her even now as she politely, but firmly pushed her way through the other sixth years until she reached the doorway.

"Hello."

Hermione was in complete shock. "Remus?"

He smiled warmly at her with blonde-gray hair falling in his eyes, "It's Professor Lupin now, Hermione."

Hermione barely acknowledged her mistake, "B-but Professor Binns..."

"Is meeting with the Ministry. The history experts are meeting together to try and find something from the past that might help us in the fight against Voldemort."

"That's not possible." Justin Finch-Fletchley insisted over Hermione's shoulder, "Professor Binns _never_ misses a class. He didn't even stop teaching when he died."

It wasn't a wonder that the first people to arrive had seen the absence of their insanely attendant professor and gone into shock. It was like a sign of the apocalypse. 

"Has the world started ending already?" Hermione finally exclaimed in exasperation.

This stirred a few chuckles through the students and Lupin. "I do not think so, Miss Granger. Though I assume that you would be the first to know."

When they still hadn't moved from their positions outside the room, he gave a small sigh. He shuffled over in his patched robes and pulled Hermione inside. "Come, class will be starting any moment and I don't think any of you want to be caught late lest you want House points to be taken."

There was little force behind the threat because everyone knew Lupin from their third year, and he was too kind-hearted to take points from something as trivial as being late to class. The rest of the class gradually filed in and took their seats, but not without each of them pausing in surprise at the doorway to find that their transparent Professor was amazingly elsewhere.

When everyone had at last taken a seat, Professor Lupin stood before the class and smiled. "For those of you who didn't hear me, Professor Binns is meeting at the Ministry of Magic and will be absent several days."

"Several days?!" Someone exclaimed from the back.

This was certainly odd. They must be in a frenzy about the Fate's prophecy, and have started studying this war from all angles -- nothing else would have pulled Binns from his lesson.

Lupin chuckled, "There was much protesting on his part, but the Ministry needed him so I am your substitute for the next couple of class periods."

This had to be a once in a lifetime occurrence. Most likely, some stupid planetary alignment had made everything in her life wonky. 

"When Saturn in the ninth house aligns with a Mercury in Aquarius many surprises will set themselves before you..." Hermione muttered to herself in a mocking impression of Professor Trelawny.

Lupin had moved over to Professor Binns' desk and was flipping through a red book. "Looking over the lesson plan your professor left behind it seems that you're going to be learning about the inner peace treaties between different tribes of goblins."

This instantly made the students forget their shock and they gave a collective groan. Shouts of protest raised from the back, and though none were clear enough to hear accurately you could get the gist of it.

"I agree." Professor Lupin closed the planner and dropped it into a desk drawer. The class cheered. "Since it is your first class of the year _and_ your first class of the day we're going to have rather-like a free day. You can ask me any question you wish and I'll do my best to answer it."

__

Oh, please don't be about me...don't be about me...don't be about me...

A student's hand rose tentatively into the air. Hermione glanced to the side -- it was Neville.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom? Go ahead..."

Hermione like Remus' voice. It was warm and velvety. When he spoke it was always soft and encouraging -- and not just in the presence of his students. Unlike most people, the first thing that came to her mind when she thought of him was not his musky scent of cinnamon, but rather his _voice_.

__

I'm overthinking again.

"How _exactly_ did the Sovereign of Light come to be?"

__

Damn.

The entire class turned in their seats to look at her. Neville shot her an apologetic glance. Remus turned to her as well, but when he found her to be just as interested in the answer he cleared his throat.

"The thing you need to know about that is, the Sovereign of Light was created **and** filled with total hope and purity." He waved off the Hufflepuff girl in the back who had raised their hand, "I know what you're thinking -- not even _Hermione Granger_ can be completely pure."

Hermione didn't know whether to feel affronted or flattered, but she blushed all the same. He went on.

"And you're right -- it _is_ impossible. But being completely 'perfect' isn't what the Sovereign is all about. Her character may have flaws and her body imperfections, but her heart and soul are filled with light. It is in this that she represents all that is pure and good -- our Champion.

"I'm sitting right here..." Hermione mumbled in embarrassed pleasure at her professor's compliments.

He gave her a sympathetic smile, "As to **how** she came to be," he cleared his throat, "besides the obvious, I have a theory. I believe that Hermione becoming this "Sovereign of Light" is related to Pandora."

It was a good theory, but there was one obvious flaw. Hermione spoke up, "But, Professor, Pandora--"

"Oh, the story is very much real. It was documented as a Greek myth when a wizard attempted to discreetly teach Muggles about the _wizarding_ world. It only succeeded in making some of our oldest history seem fictional to later generations."

Hermione was shocked, to say the least that this fact had slipped past her. Why hadn't she known that?

__

Well....... that's annoying...

"For the few of you who don't have any Muggle cultural experience --"

Ron, who had had no idea what anyone was talking about, reddened automatically.

"--I will tell the story of Pandora's Box as it was once told to me."

Several of the students, mostly the people who had chosen seats in the back, conjured some floor cushions and filled in the aisles between tables. Once everyone had crowded at the front, to better hear Professor Lupin's storytelling, Ron had ended up next to Hermione's chair and Harry was in front of her using her legs as a backrest to lean upon.

Professor Lupin chuckled at his students, and setting himself on top of his desk, began to speak.

__

"After the theft of fire from the heavens by the titan Prometheus, Zeus still had intentions of punishing mankind for accepting this gift which was reserved for the gods themselves. He called on Hepheastus and had him fashion a woman out of marble. Aphrodite posed for the statue to ensure that it would be beautiful. When it was complete, Athena breathed life into the cold marble making it a living, breathing woman. 

Zeus presented the woman with a box, and told her that she must never open it, or let anybody else open it no matter what the circumstances were. All of the other gods gave the woman a gift; Aphrodite taught her how to dance without moving her legs, and how to look at a man from across the room without moving her eyes. Athena gave her wisdom above any mortal standards. Apollo taught her how to play various musical instruments, and the Muses taught her how to sing. Hermes filled her mouth with lies, and gave her hands swift enough to steal a necklace from around a woman's neck without her noticing. The last gift was given to her by Hera, and this was curiosity. She was placed down on earth with all of the other mortals, and she was given the name Pandora, which means, "All-gifted". 

A man called Epimetheus, who was the brother of Prometheus, soon adopted Pandora. He brought her into his home, and she stayed there with him. Epimetheus lived in a small village, and every day the people would dance and sing in the sunshine all day long. Food was provided for them by fig trees, and there was a near by river for water. 

At this time, there was no such thing as people dying from old age; they would grow to maturity, and then stop aging all together. There was no sickness, no hunger, no poverty, and no misery; their lives on earth were perfect. Pandora lived with these people for several blissful years, but she always remembered the box that Zeus had given her sitting in the corner of her home, and her explicit instructions never to open it. 

Years past since Pandora's arrival to the village, and she sat up late one night sitting in front of the box. Moonlight poured through the window, setting the box aglow with a dull silvery radiance. It looked ordinary enough; a simple box made of oak with a simple lock on the front, for which she had the key. She was riddled with curiosity, but she just knew that it would be wrong for her to open the box. She picked it up, and carried it out to her garden at the back of the house. She dug a small hole in the center of the garden with her small shovel and placed the box inside. She looked down at it one last time before covering it back up with the earth. She then took several large stones, and piled them on top of the hole. Satisfied, she returned to bed with Epimetheus and fell asleep. 

As she slept, she began to have dreams. In her dreams, she would be sitting before the box with the key in her hands. She would careful insert the key into the keyhole and turn it, smiling as the faint click of the lock echoed through the room. As she opened the lid, she gasped in awe, for the box was filled with the most beautiful gems that she had ever seen! These were her gift from Zeus! But why wasn't she supposed to open it? With those jewels, she and Epimetheus could live like a King and Queen! 

She awoke from her sleep, and sat up in bed. It was still dark, and Epimetheus was asleep at her side. She got out of bed, and ran out to her garden. She tore apart the rocks that she had set over the hole. Her hands were bruised and bleeding from the rocks by the time that she dove onto the dirt, but she didn't seem to notice. She dug with her bare hands, wincing in pain as the soil stung her wounds, but she didn't stop until her fingernails scraped the lid of the box. She pulled the box out of the hole onto the earth beside her, and dug furiously through her tunic for the key. She opened the lock and threw the lid open.

A thick black smoke flooded out of the box, and into her eyes making her cry out in pain. When her vision had cleared, she looked down to see small demons escaping from the box. They were crawling, running and flying out of the box in all directions, spreading out into the world. She grabbed one of the creatures in one hand and thrust it back into the box. As she did this, it bit her on the hand. 

She immediately fell ill from the bite, and collapsed onto the ground finding enough energy to slam the lid on the box shut before anything else came out. She lay on the ground with the box in her arms panting heavily and retching with the sickness that the demon had given her. 

'Please open the lid.' A small voice cried. 

Pandora looked up at the box, and put her eye up to the keyhole. She saw a golden light shining within the box, and figured it must be where the voice was coming from. 

'How can I? Look at the damage I've caused already!' Pandora wheezed. 

'Please let me out of the box. I'm not like the others, I can help to alleviate what you have done, to lessen the suffering of mankind.' The voice whispered. 

With her last bit of strength, Pandora lifted the lid then collapsed back down onto the earth. A small creature appeared before her. It radiated a beautiful golden light, and was in the form of a small woman with a pair of gossamer wings fluttering at her shoulders. The being came down to Pandora's face, and kissed her lightly on the nose. Pandora's suffering lessened at the sprite's touch, and she suddenly had the strength to sit up. 

The being hung in the air before her face, 'I am Hope. I am the last of the sprites in the box. Through your curiosity, you managed to release old age, sickness, plague, misery, selfishness, greed, ugliness, and **evil** into the world. I am the Hope that will give the strength to mankind to battle these, but that is the best that can be done.'

Pandora opened her mouth to reply, but Hope was gone. From that day on, people began to get sick, grow old and die. Such was the punishment of Zeus upon the world for accepting something reserved for the gods, and no one else."

The entire class had been hanging on his every word. It was his voice Hermione decided. It was pleasantly comforting and hypnotic. She blinked dreamily and game out of the stoic daze Professor Lupin's storytelling had placed her in.

"What happened to Hope, Professor?" Hannah asked.

Lupin smiled at the Hufflepuff prefect and stood up, "That's where my theory comes into play. I believe that the darkness in the world became too powerful for even Hope to help alleviate so, she created the Sovereign of Light. She infused Hermione with her light and goodness in the hopes that Hermione would become a sort of powerhouse for the Hope of the world."

His small voice was filled with excitement as his thought-out theory began to come to life, "She chose _Hermione_ because her heart was already pure...because the potential was there. And Hope jumped the chance. In addition to using Hermione to magnify the tiny bit of Hope the world had left, she can also use the human "vessel" to rally together the good beings of this world and stir Hope back to life inside of them."

"Wow...don't _you_ feel special," Ron whispered up to her.

Either Professor had been too caught up in explaining his thoughts or he chose to ignore Ron's sarcastic interruption of his "lesson". Lupin turned to Neville and personally addressed him, another thing Hermione liked about the lycanthrope. "Does that answer your question, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville nodded meekly, but his face was filled with awe. "T-thank you, Professor." He stammered.

"Your welcome." Lupin straightened, "We have a few more minutes, are there anymore questions."

"Why can't _you_ be our _History_ teacher?" A girl whined. Hermione didn't even need to look to know that the high-pitched voice belonged to Parvati Patil.

"Yeah!" Dean Thomas seconded, "You're a lot more interesting than Binns."

"You don't talk in monotone!" 

The entire room laughed, even Ron whom the comment had come from.

"You actually know what you're talking about," Justin exclaimed seriously, "You didn't even look at a single book the whole time you were teaching."

That was true. Hermione had noticed that everything he had said during that class period had come from nowhere but his own mind. They hadn't even realized that they were actually learning anything while he encouraged them to ask questions. She smiled. He was a remarkable teacher.

"As I said, I'll only be teaching you for a few days. I highly doubt Professor Binns would want to hand over his job." Professor Lupin did look surprised at such a burst of affection from his students. "I am flattered that you enjoyed my storytelling, but not every class period will be this interesting."

But the students were firmly convinced otherwise and were not about to be deterred. However, they grudgingly complied when Lupin asked them kindly to "get back on track".

"We have time for one last question."

Lavender confidently raised her hand from her perch on a pink cushion.

"Yes, Miss Brown?"

"How much Hope will it take to destroy You-Know-Who?" Lavender Brown asked.

"How can there be _any _Hope when everyone keeps dying?!" Seamus, who had remained silent until the point, muttered angrily.

Hermione fixed her eyes on the Irish Gryffindor seated in the table behind hers. His little sister had been killed at the beginning of their fifth year; it still made him angry whenever he thought about it. Her amber eyes glowed.

His eyebrows were knitted together and the thin line his lips formed made it clear to Hermione that he was clenching his teeth together to keep from interrupting the class again. Hermione turned completely around in her chair and laid her hand gingerly on the black tabletop.

"Seamus?" Her ploy worked and when he looked up at her their eyes locked and she held his gaze. Her eyes flickered and the room suddenly dropped away from her.

A multitude of images flashed past her mind. A young girl screamed. 

Unknown to her, the golden coloring of her irises had seeped across the whites of her eyes and they now glowed with an unnatural light. The golden light flowed down her arm and enveloped the table where her hand laid upon it. The entire class watched as the energy bleed outwards across the expanse of the table and that it had wrapped itself about Seamus' own arm laying across the table.

Hermione's other hand gripped her chair.

She saw a small girl no more than seven.

A group of men in black robes; Death Eaters.

Crowding around the frightened girl.

Touching her...

A blinding white light lanced painfully through her mind and Hermione's scream echoed that of the girl's. Hermione felt the hands even as she saw them. Terror filled her inside and out, and tears fell shamelessly from unblinking amber eyes.

Neither she nor Seamus moved.

Hermione's consciousness was shoved to one side and an alien presence filled her mind. It wasn't evil, of that she was sure, but it was foreign to her.

"I am here to see with eyes unclouded." A voice, not Hermione's stated with no emotion.

The voice that was not her own seemed so far away. It was faint and mumbled as if muffled by a pillow.

"Eyes unclouded?" Seamus was incredulous.

Then the entity was sucked back inside her and Hermione was once again in control. But yet she wasn't. The images still haunted her mind and the girl's desperate screams echoed in her ears.

Wands drawn.

Blinding green light.

Hollow hazel eyes.

The horrifying movie kept going over and over again in front of her eyes. Going too fast, and yet slow enough that the images were burned into her memory. The pain was gradually rising and the white light began to burn once again behind her eyelids.

Blindly Hermione groped for Seamus' hand, and when she found it she clutched to it like a starving man would his last scrap of bread. He squeezed it back and the awful slideshow of his sister's death appeared in his mind as well. Their other hands met over the table and as they clung to each other their heads flung back and their mouths opened in silent screams.

"What do we do Professor?" Harry demanded.

But Professor Lupin was at a loss for words.

Their hands began to glow, bringing their attention rocketing back to the anomaly before them. Hermione's head snapped back up and the alien voice spoke through her once again. "I am here."

The screams in their minds were cut off and the white light receded back into darkness. The violent merry-go-round of pictures flickered to a slow pace and finally stopped on one.

Whiteness filled everything. Movement made Hermione's mind focus even harder on the center. There was a sound of wings in the background and they were getting closely. Suddenly and without warning the little girl appeared in the center of the whiteness. She was dressed in gown of pure light and tiny wings sprouted from her shoulders and wrapped around her.

The little girl smiled.

She had been cleansed and her memory purified.

Hermione's mind went mercifully black and she was aware of the classroom rushing back up to meet her. She released Seamus' hands and hers instantly went to cradle her head. She was unnaturally aware of the beating of her heart, the pumping of the blood in her veins. Her own breathing, though heavy, was abnormally loud to her ears. But she was thankful to hear _it_ rather than the screams.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Professor Lupin asked crouching down beside her. She recoiled at the sudden "shouting" in her ear and waiting until the ringing stopped.

"I'm fine, Professor. My body has just gone into "hyper-sense mode", so...I'd really appreciate it if you'd back up a little." She whispered rubbing her temples.

She opened her eyes and gave a small gasp of pain as the light bore into them and her pupils dilated to mere pinpricks. Her eyes were starting to water when she finally thought to conjure her quill into a pair of sunglasses. She slid the pink-tinted lenses on and the pain was instantly snuffed out.

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse, "Professor, what the hell just happened?"

This was originally one chapter, but I decided to cut it up into two so it could be read in two different sittings if someone was short on time. (It was originally 23 pages long)

****

Next chapter: Get ready for some action; Hermione goes into training and researching in the library is inevitable.

KissThis


	7. Fate Makes Some Cancellations

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Seven: Fate Makes Some Cancellations

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: Vote, but I'm already going one way. Can you persuade me otherwise?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I don't own HP yet, but that will all change when I get a patent for my invention: Extendable Ears. What the hell do you mean 'J.K. owns those too'?!

--

A/N: Ok, I read OotP already -- less than 13 hours. It was great except for the fact that Rowling had to kill off an _awesome_ character...and one that is in my story. Considering my story is in 6th year...the year _after_ this character's death...poses sort of a loophole doesn't it? Oh, well -- we're just gonna ignore the death for now. Eh, who knows. There's a war going on so...they could still die.

--

A/N2: Um...taking the newly released 5th book into consideration, I'm going to be using characters from there, mmm k? Mm k.

--

The bell rang.

Nobody moved.

Professor Lupin cleared his throat, "Miss Granger...Dumbledore. He needs to know."

Hermione nodded quickly. With the eyes of the class following her, Hermione quickly swept all her things off the table and into her bag. Lupin ran a hand uneasily through his shaggy crop of hair.

"You should go too, Finnigan." He added.

Seamus nodded dumbly and gathered his things together as well.

A mixture of fifth years bearing the House crests of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor waited anxiously outside the doorway. The door that had only been cracked open was pushed against the opposite wall and Padme Patil, who Hermione could only assume had been passing by, stepped halfway into the room. Her prefect badge caught the lamplight and sparkled impressively.

"Is everything all right, Professor?" She questioned. Her hands nervously toyed with the cuffs of her robes.

Professor Lupin nodded in her direction. "Come on, now. The rest of you off to class."

Hermione's hypersensitivity seemed to be dying down now and she felt safe enough to speak at a normal volume. "Don't look so disappointed," She muttered. She heaved her bag onto her shoulder. "You'll find out eventually; if Dumbledore doesn't make an announcement about it first."

The students couldn't find any untruth in her words. The crowd outside parted so they could get out. Hermione waited until Seamus was ready and then they joined the queue of students slowly making their way through the mob and out of the classroom.

"I'll inform your teachers about your lateness," He called over their heads. "Getting to class means you too, Harry. Ron." Harry and Ron, who had started to drift back in the line, presumably to talk to Hermione, now flushed sheepishly.

Hermione smiled slowly. "I'll be fine, don't worry," She insisted. "Can you tell Professor Snape that I'm seeing the headmaster?"

Ron groaned, "Yeah, Hermione. 'Cuz I really want to socialize with Snape as much as possible on my first day back at Hogwarts."

"You're the best!" Hermione gushed pretending hadn't heard the sarcasm dripping from his words. Pecking them both on the cheek she slid out the door with Seamus following in her wake.

Hermione finished relating the occurrence and sipped at her now lukewarm tea. Dumbledore had remained silent throughout Hermione's entire rendition. He had sat in the comfy-looking, chintz armchair behind his desk with his fingers steepled in front of him and his pale blue eyes studying her over golden, half-moon spectacles. Now he turned to Seamus.

"Is this what you experience as well, Mr. Finnigan?"

Seamus, a lot less used to talking personally with one of the most powerful wizards in the world, shifted a bit nervously in his seat.

"I-I didn't see the first part, sir. Me mind was sort of blank. I didn't see anything until Hermione grabbed me hand -- then it was all going bloody topsy-turvy."

He paused for a moment, but it wasn't out of hesitation. " 'Mione helped me lil sis, sir. I was filled with a lot of anger -- me mum told me not to dwell on it. But I couldn't help but keep replaying them horrifying memories over and over." He looked over at Hermione and smiled gratefully. "I-I don't know what she did, but now when I think of me sister...I see an _angel_."

Hermione flushed.

"I remember the tragedy with your sister, Jessi." Dumbledore said slowly before continuing, "I am also glad that whether intentionally or not, Miss Granger has used her powers to ease you inner pain and to cleanse Jessi's memory."

Seamus smiled too. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw tears in his eyes. He must have realized it too because he swiped the back of his palm over his eyes and then set down his own teacup. 

"You may go now, Mr. Finnigan. Thank you for your time."

Seamus left quickly and Hermione had no doubt that the tale would be well circulated by the time she was excused as well. She slid off her sunglasses and was relieved to find that her eyes were no longer light sensitive. Dumbledore waited until she had resettled herself with calm patience.

Instinctively, Hermione's fingers wrapped around her crystal necklace -- the action did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore. "Professor, what do you think this means?"

Dumbledore folded his arms across the desk. "I think it means that Professor Lupin's theory might not be that far off. The way you spoke of another consciousness being inside you brings to light the point that you may in fact be infused with the creature Hope."

Hermione shivered at the thought of someone else being inside her body. Then again, not many people got possessed by a thousand-year-old _noun_. As her thoughts whirled around she didn't know whether to feel honored or _violated_.

"It also means that your powers are surfacing and we can't keep having you subconsciously using them without knowing it. And I'm sorry to tell you that, in light of this sudden incident, we're going to have to pull you out of some of your classes."

"Professor, no!" Hermione exclaimed. Dumbledore smiled slightly, if inappropriately, at her crestfallen expression. Hermione Granger was the only student he knew that would be upset about no longer having a few classes.

"I understand, Miss Granger, that your academics are very important to you." His smile dropped and his tone was so serious Hermione was taken aback. "But if Voldemort isn't defeated they won't matter much, will they?"

_He's right..._

Hermione instantly felt chagrined about the selfish way she had reacted. People died everyday and here she was whining that some of her classes had been cut. "I'm sorry, Professor." She whispered.

"It's quite alright, Miss Granger. Now, since training your power and studying the art of war will take up most of your time, all but the classes you'll need for battle will be cut. _Transfiguration_, _Charms_, and _Defense against the Dark Arts_ are all that will be necessary."

He waved his hand and his phoenix, Fawkes, who had been resting on his perch, took to the air and soared out of the room with a parchment clutched in his talons.

Hermione was shocked. It was true that she wouldn't need classes like _Muggle Studies_ or _Arithmancy_. But only _three_ classes? 

"And _Potions_," She added stubbornly, "_History of Magic _as well."

He frowned, "Miss Granger--"

"I'm serious." She interrupted.

He was thoughtful for a moment; "I can see how _Potions_ might be helpful. But _History_ would be pointless -- the Ministry is already doing extensive work in that area."

Hermione's lower lip became caught in between her teeth and she gnawed on it in hopes that it would alleviate her frustration. She had _really_ wanted to continue _History_ under Professor Lupin. There was also the nagging notion of 'training'. She had no idea what that entailed and Dumbledore hadn't exactly been dishing out information on what would occupy the time that she would have spent in classes.

"I can give you _Potions_, but if anything comes up..." he trailed off.

"It's be the first class to go." Hermione finished for him. "I understand."

"Very well then."

"Thank you, Professor!"

He smiled at her. "What class do you have now?"

"Double _Potions_, sir."

"Hmm...I think Severus would find it interesting that you fought to keep his class. Especially, when it will only give you minimal assistance in the tasks before you. Yes, very interesting..." He mused. As Hermione flushed in stubborn embarrassment she saw the headmaster's eyes twinkle in merriment.

"It's an important part of the wizarding world and I _refuse_ to give it up. Besides, I believe that it will help _greatly_ in the future, er, sir." She explained.

"If he has a problem with you being a half hour late--"

"I'm sure it's all right, Professor. I had Harry and Ron tell him that I was meeting with you." Hermione explained standing up.

"Always one step ahead -- Good girl." He stood up as well and reached over his desk to shake her hand. "What do you have the rest of the day?"

"Well I _had_ Herbology and Muggle Studies." She recited easily having already memorized her schedule.

"After _Potions_ I'd like you to meet Tonks and Moody on the grounds. They'll start you on your spell training and dueling. I shall meet with your Professors this evening and we'll work out your new schedule."

Hermione had been silent while he talked. The notes she had taken in her head were now stored away in a mental filing cabinet labeled 'Training/Schedule'. 

"Yes, sir." She set down her teacup and lifted her knapsack onto her shoulder. "And thank you, again."

Surprisingly, he chuckled, "Save your thanks until _after_ your training today. Then see how 'thankful' you are."

She beamed at him and her infectious smile was back to normal, "I won't let it get me down, Professor." She insisted.

Just as she reached the door he called out to her again, "Miss Granger!"

She turned around.

"I understand that this hasn't been the normal first-day-back you expected. But you're coping with it exceptionally well, and your patience and understanding in this whole ordeal is inspiring."

"T-thank you, Professor." She stammered in bewilderment at his sudden compliment.

"Never give up hope, Miss Granger." 

Hermione smiled and walked out of his office, "I'm not about to give _myself_ up, Professor." She called over her shoulder.

Dumbledore listened as her laughter carried back up the stairs and into his office, before the door swung shut and the reassuring sound was silenced.

"Good luck, Hermione..."

--

"As I was saying," Snape growled. "We will be starting off the year with Following Potions. It isn't a complex potion unless you don't follow the directions correctly. Now--"

He was cut off, for the second time that period, as the dungeon door opened and Hermione walked in. The Gryffindors were _ecstatic_. The most dismal two hours of their life had been disturbed _twice_.

"I'm sorry, Professor," She apologized. Glancing up she saw her friends motioning her to a desk. Snape had seated her with Draco. "Professor Dumbledore kept me longer than I'd expected."

Her seat was second from the front so she started down the aisle. She had been fiddling with her bag as she approached, but when she reached her table she looked up to find Snape smirking sinisterly at her.

"I don't know what you're doing here, Miss Granger, but you are no longer in my class."

Hermione figured that Draco and the rest of the class were watching her with interest, but she kept her eyes on Snape.

"I am aware, sir, that Dumbledore sent you a message -- I saw Fawkes in the hallway."

"Then enlighten me as to why you have disrupted my class?! Ten poin--"

"Because I insisted on continuing _Potions_." Hermione said quickly. Her loud tone drowned out Snape's attempt at taking points away from Gryffindor.

Snape's mouth snapped shut. Beady, black eyes met amber and they stared each other down.

"..._really_?"

"Yes, sir."

The class waited with bated breath. Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously but Hermione's remained wide and patient. He swallowed slowly and turned his back on her.

"Following Potions are used when you need someone to listen only to you...to _follow_ only you--"

Hermione sank gratefully into her chair while Snape walked around the room continuing his lecture on the day's potion. She pulled out her notebook and looked at Draco.

He slid a scrap of parchment to her. Hermione made sure that she set her notebook down on top of it and continued pulling out a quill and her favorite bottle of purple ink. Draco began to shoot her anxious looks but she kept taking notes on Snape's lecture until he had paced his way to the other side of the room. Sliding her notebook up an inch she glanced down at Draco's note.

**Seamus told us about what happened in _History_, but why did Snape say you weren't in his class?**

Hermione dipped her quill back into the inkwell, and then hastily scribbled back a reply. Snape was coming back around; she dropped it into his lap where it was obscured from view.

_Because I wasn't. I had to convince Dumbledore._

Professor Snape decided to stop his pacing beside their table and the both of them were forced to return to their note-taking. When he turned around to magic the potion's directions onto the board, Draco passed it back to her.

**'Mione...what is going on?**

Snape was just turning around when Hermione threw it back. Draco promptly dropped his cauldron on the folded parchment and went on to retrieve his potion-making kit from his shoulder bag. It wasn't until five minutes later, when Professor Snape slunk off to badger Neville, that Draco got a chance to read Hermione's answer. There were only three words.

_We'll talk tonight_.

They spent the last hour of _Potions_ in silence. One of them was constantly hunched over Draco's cauldron making sure things were done correctly. They split up the steps and made sure that their assigned tasks were done to perfection -- they both wanted their first potion of the year to turn out well.

Hermione only glanced up once, while she waited for Draco to finish slicing the gingerroot, and she used the time to scan the pairings. A Gryffindor to each Slytherin. There was complete silence throughout the entire room.

Draco's willingness to mingle with Gryffindors had spread throughout the entire House since the end of their fifth year. (Hermione reminded herself never to underestimate his influence.) The Gryffindors too were making an effort to be nice to their Slytherin counterparts since the Golden Trio had accepted Draco's help. It was an amazing thing to see. Harry was explaining to Vincent Crabbe how correctly to slice the gingerroot, and Pansy Parkinson was showing extreme patience with Neville whose hand shook as he measured the powdered bicorn horn. 

"We're good role models." She whispered to Draco as he straightened up.

She bent over the bubbling cauldron and slowly added the dried nettles. Draco looked around and grinned seeing what she had. "Well...not so much you."

Hermione had to stifle her giggles because Snape had arrived at their table to examine their finished potion. It was the correct turquoise color and they both grinned when Snape could find no flaws in its physical properties.

After everyone's potion had been inspected, he instructed them to bottle their potion and correctly label it. They would be stored in the room until a later class when they would test their potion's effectiveness.

Rushing out of class when the bell rang to avoid her friend's questions, Hermione hurried from of the dungeons and out the main doors.

"Impedimenta!" Hermione cried and Nymphadora Tonks was immediately frozen in place.

"Very good," Moody said gruffly. His wooden leg thudded dully on the hard ground as he made his way to the immobile Tonks. "Finite Incantatum."

Hermione smiled tiredly. She had spent the last hour demonstrating various curses and spells that Moody considered "the basics". And even though they tried to hide it, she knew that she had impressed her "teachers" with her experience in spellwork.

Tonks beamed at her and ran a hand through her spiky blue hair. "I'm impressed Hermione. I wouldn't have thought you'd learn _anything_ with Umbridge teaching you last year."

Hermione flushed, "Well, actually, I didn't. I mean not from her anyway. I'd read about most of those spells, but I'd never had the chance to practice them. But with the war coming up I persuaded Harry to start up 'Dumbledore's Army'. There were only about 28 of us, but we would meet in secret and he'd teach us different hexes and spells."

Moody's slitted mouth curved into a smile and the result was that his face looked more contorted and scarred than before. "You're a smart girl." He growled, "Now let's see how you do in a duel...Tonks."

Moody leaned over to whisper something in Tonks' ear and as the two women squared off his magical eye fixed on something behind Hermione.

"Don't go easy on me." Hermione said stubbornly holding her wand up to her face.

Tonks flushed at being caught and looked over to Moody for instructions. "You heard the lady." He said.

Moody backed away so as not to interfere, "Wands at the ready...GO!"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione shouted being the first to attack. Tonks, surprised at her daring, was knocked backwards but maintained a hold on her wand.

The sound of voices was wafting up over the hill and as Hermione did some mental figuring she realized that lunch was over and some of her classmates were making their way to Herbology. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, however, because Tonks was already back on her feet.

"_Incendio!_"

Hermione gave a small shout as her robes caught fire. Not bothering to waste time in putting out the magical flames she flung the burning robe away from her leaving her in her blouse and skirt. She raised her wand again, but Tonks was taking serious her demand of not going easy on her and was already attacking again.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Tonks fired the Full Body Bind on her and Hermione barely had time to react.

"_PROTEGO!_" Hermione shouted desperately. The Shield Charm materialized just in time and sent Tonks' curse ricocheting back at her. But the two duelists were so far apart that in the time it took to reach her she had easily dodged.

Hermione seized the opportunity and immediately turned the tables on Tonks; putting _her_ on the defensive.

"_Tarantallegra!_"

The blue-haired auror couldn't completely dodge the curse and one of her legs immediately started to do a crazy sort of dance. Unable to stand with one leg moving all over the place, Tonks fell to her knees.

Thinking that her opponent was unable to cast any spells in her current state Hermione was caught unawares as Tonks pointed her shaking wand at her and shouted: "_Expelliarmus!_"

A burst of gold light hit her like a cannon ball and unlike Tonks, who had been braced for Hermione's _Expelliarmus_, Hermione was caught completely unprepared and she was blown off the ground. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that her body was propelled at least six feet into the air, and even Moody was taken by surprise.

Hermione bit back her scream as she sensed gravity begin to pull her back down. The spell had knocked the wind out of her and her short flight was most likely not going to end well, but Voldemort be damned if she was going to scream. 

_This is **nothing**..._ She thought stubbornly.

Lifting her shaking wand she barely had a chance to whisper her spell. "_Serpensortia!_"

The deadly viper shot out of her wand and landed at Tonks feet who cursed and jumped out of the snake's reach. 

Then...

Hermione's body hit the ground with a sickening **Crunch!**

Someone screamed her name, but she was too disoriented to make out the owner.

She opened her eyes and was rewarded with the blinding afternoon sunlight blaring down at her and making spots dance across her vision. Her left arm screamed as she forced herself into a sitting position. There was a dull **thud**, **thud**,** thud** and when her vision cleared she was surprised to find Moody quickly hobbling his way across the lawn to her.

Something was definitely wrong with her arm, but when she tried to pull it out of her sleeve the pain that lanced through her body made her gasp.

"_Diffindo._" She muttered and her blouse was cut into pieces by an invisible knife. Left laying on the lawn in her sweat-soaked tank top she examined her arm.

She quickly glanced up and finding that Tonks was still preoccupied with Hermione's conjured snake, she focused her attention on her arm. She touched her arm gingerly and winced; broken. 

A sudden shadow fell over her and she looked over to find Moody crouched next to her. His wand was out and he was attempting to get a good view of her arm, but Hermione waved him off.

"_Ferula._" As a wooden rod appeared in her hand, Hermione was instantly grateful that Lupin had showed her this spell when he had to deal with Ron's broken leg. Using it as a splint for her arm, Hermione set her broken bones as best she could and tied the rod to her arm with pieces of her torn blouse.

Hermione thanked the gods that her legs weren't broken and got slowly to her feet. Holding her shoulder and wand in one hand she moved back to where Tonks was distracted by the viper.

It was no great surprise that the students who had been on their way to Herbology had stopped to watch the witches duel. The crowd was mixed with Gryffindors and Slytherins and seeing familiar faces she remembered that she would have had Herbology this period. Harry, Ron, and Draco had pushed their way to the front and judging by the looks on their faces they had been standing there long enough to see her go flying through the air.

"_Vipera Evanesca!_"

Suddenly, the crowd of onlookers didn't matter and she whirled around to see her snake disappear in crackling of sparks. Tonks, who must have gotten rid of her dancing leg while Hermione was preoccupied, looked at her in concern and guilt.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry! I-"

"Fight me." Hermione growled raising her wand.

Tonks was taken aback, "You're arm is broken. Dumbledore is going to _kill_ me -- we're stopping this duel _now_."

"You don't get time-outs in war." Hermione's voice was monotonous. She knew she had to do this. A broken arm would mean nothing to Voldemort and _he_ was the one she **had** to beat not Tonks.

"Hermione..."

"FIGHT ME!" Hermione screamed.

Tonks turned to Moody for guidance and something inside Hermione snapped. Without knowing she had done so, by turning her back on Hermione, Tonks body language registered Hermione of little threat.

_She wouldn't have turned her back on **Harry...**_

Squaring herself she aimed her wand.

_I'm not a little girl_

The duel wasn't over yet.

"_Locomotor Mortis!_"

An invisible force pulled on Tonks' legs and locked them together. She went toppling over instantly. Whatever concern or sympathy she had felt for Hermione was instantly gone as the younger woman attacked her when her back was turned. She rolled onto her stomach.

"_WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!_"

The rudimentary spell was not directed at Hermione, but rather at something beside her. The next thing she knew the large branch that had been lying next to her connected with her stomach and pushed her into a tree. The branch seemed to take on a mind of its own and pinned her to the large rowan tree.

With her uninjured hand Hermione clawed at the wood pressing against her neck. She couldn't breathe. Her fingers quickly began to ache and the wood splintered beneath her fingernails. Her lower body writhed against the tree trunk, but nothing she did loosened the pressure on her throat.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Hermione raised her amber eyes and found that Moody and several of the students had to restrain the boys from leaping to her aid. Her gaze landed on Harry and she had a sudden idea.

Hermione's lips moved slowly as she struggled to voice her words and then she lifted her wand. Gold mist exploded from the tip of her wand and descended in front of Tonks. Tonks didn't hesitate in taking a step into the mist to get to her opponent, but if she had looked at Harry she would have seen his face break out into a grin.

For Tonks the world turned upside down. She was hanging from the ground, with her tousled hair on end. It felt as though her feet were glued to the grass, which had now become the ceiling. Below her the bright, cloud-filled sky stretched endlessly. She felt as though if she tried to move one of her feet, she would fall away from the earth completely.

Meanwhile, Hermione used Tonks distraction to free herself. Twisting her good arm at a difficult angle she pointed her wand at the branch. "_Reducto!_"

The branch was vaporized into a large cloud of dust that floated down over her and she fell to the warm grass. She wanted to lay there beneath the scorching sunlight and be allowed to drift off to sleep, but she could end this now.

Getting to her knees she pinpointed Tonks' location in the golden mist. Despite the sweltering heat, the sweat trickling down her back, and the throbbing pain in her broken arm Hermione smiled proudly and lifted her wand.

"_STUPEFY!_"

The red beam of light pierced the twinkling fog and hit its target. Tonks crumpled to the ground.

"_Accio._" Moody said gruffly. Hermione hadn't heard him come up behind her and his sudden speech made her jump. Tonk's stunned form came floating slowly out of the mist and landed at Moody's feet.

"_Ennervate_."

Tonks was just coming to when Professor Sprout came running across the grounds as fast as her short legs would carry her. "Alastor!" She bellowed coming nearer.

"Yes Professor?" He inquired calmly.

"What is the meaning of this?! You almost killed the poor girl." She admonished her face turning slightly purple.

Moody shook his head; "She's in training." His magical eye rolled backwards in its socket to watch Hermione as she got to her feet, "Besides she could have stopped anytime she wanted to -- she's a stubborn lass, I'll tell you that."

"_And_ she does a mean stunning spell," Tonks added ruefully standing up.

"Training or not I don't think Dumbledore had a broken arm in mind for the first day." Sprout huffed. Tonks had the decency to blush. "I'm taking her to see Madame Pomfrey right away--"

"Nonsense, Professor." Tonks stepped up. "You have a class to teach. I'll take her. Besides I feel awful about her arm and it's only fitting, don't you think?"

Professor Sprout bristled at being interrupted, but had to concede to the fact that her students had missed ten minutes of Herbology and they had better get started right away. She rounded up the students and escorted them on to the greenhouses, Tonks and Hermione started the trek up to the castle, and Moody settled himself down in the shade to wait.

Twenty minutes later, Parvati Patil reported to Greenhouse 6 that Hermione was back at it again.

Woah! 18 pages! I hope you guys like this chapter -- starting to get some action in. I apologize if it's not my best action sequence...I've never had to do a dueling one. I usually like to stick to swords or physical fighting, but oh well.

Review! If I get over 70 reviews then I'll get cracking on the Hr/? romance.

KissThis


	8. The Dreams Dragons Dream

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Eight: The Dreams Dragons Dream

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: You'll find out!

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter...sad really...

--

A/N: I know that some of you might not have read the fifth book yet. I'm going to try really hard not to include spoilers, though I don't think that many will come up. If you _really_ don't think you can stand a few spoilers than, by all means, put my story on hold -- it _will_ be here when you get back.

Hermione hurried to dinner and managed to catch the tail end of a crowd of students pushing their way into the Great Hall. Trying not to look _too_ conspicuous she realized too late that she was sans the required blouse and black robes. And when she sat down at the Gryffindor table she figured her ragged appearance was what was drawing the stares of her peers. Her skirt was covered in scorch marks -- Moody's handiwork -- and her tank top was torn and smudged. Her chestnut curls were falling out of her ponytail and sweat was shining as it cooled on her body. And though she was tired as all hell, she felt deeply satisfied at the outcome of her first day back at Hogwarts.

Harry and Ron kept their silence until she started shoveling rice onto her plate and by then the tension was so high that Ron couldn't stand it anymore. 

"So when are you going to tell us what's happening!?" He exclaimed, not bothering to keep his voice low.

Hermione looked up at him through her lashes and then around at the people who's attention had been caught by Ron's loud demand. She, however, kept her voice soft and even.

"I would tell you, Ron, but I'd only have to repeat myself later and I'd rather only have to explain everything once."

This had the desired effect of silencing him and he immediately darkened. Looking back over his shoulder Hermione watched him fix his narrowed gaze on someone at the Slytherin table. He turned back with a scowl and proceeded to stab viciously at his salad.

"I don't know why you need to tell _him_..." he muttered darkly under his breath.

Hermione gritted her teeth. She was beginning to think that they would _never_ get along. "Maybe it's because I need someone _level-headed_ to watch my back." She retorted acidly.

Harry suddenly burst into a fit of coughing. He attempted to smother it in his napkin but even then it sounded suspiciously like laughter. As Ron turned beat red Harry looked over his napkin at Hermione and his emerald eyes danced making Hermione's mood instantly lift again. She grinned at him and grabbed a chicken leg.

_Just like old times..._

The silence that followed the end of Hermione's tale seemed to last for aeons. Ron kept shifting anxiously in his seat upon Hermione's couch. Oppositely, Harry remained completely motionless staring off into space and leaning against the back of _Padme's_ couch. Draco idly prodded the common room fireplace with a golden poker. As he gazed deep into the fire, as if seeking answers, the burning flames were reflected in his blue-gray eyes.

After waiting several moments for one of the boys to break the silence, as they were prone to doing, the silent tension became too much for even Hermione to bare. She cleared her throat loudly and the boys jumped.

"Look, I have War Strategies first thing in the morning and I still have to get cleaned up."

"What do you want to do about this mind-to-mind thing with Seamus?" Harry asked. "Research?"

Hermione nodded, "I'll take Draco -- when do you have a free period?"

"First thing after lunch."

"That's great! So do I -- though it's probably a lot shorter than yours."

"Woah woah!" Harry interrupted, "I thought _we_ were always your research buddies."

"Yeah! Why are you taking _him_?" Ron added.

Hermione flushed, "Things change. I mean, of course you're still my 'buddies', but you guys haven't been great on the whole research thing in the past."

Draco was trying hard not to snicker at the twin looks of mock hurt on Ron and Harry's faces. Hermione was finding it equally difficult to keep her tone apologetic.

"Besides," She reasoned. "Draco and I are prefects and therefore curfew doesn't apply to us. Plus, _we're_ allowed in the Restricted Section."

Harry and Ron _finally_ admitted defeat and left for their own common room after saying their goodnights. Heaving a great sigh born from exhaustion Hermione dragged her sore body into the prefect's bathroom and shut the door. Draco was left staring at the fire awhile longer and then he too retired to his room for the night. Even before his head hit the pillow he knew what he would be dreaming about.

He always dreamed of _her_...

__

He was walking along the gardens, again.

That's where she always found him...

...in the moonlight.

Her footsteps make no sound upon the stone path, but he knew she was there. He stopped his walking and turned.

A vision in white she floated eerily down the trail towards him. An unseen wind teased her hair and ruffled her white gown and the blinding white light that stayed wrapped about her like an aura made the lines of her body blur and become fuzzy. The only thing that remained focused was her eyes.

Wide and haunting amber...

**

****

Look here she comes now

Bow down and stare in wonder

Oh how we love you

**

He couldn't help but stare. Just like every other time, her beauty held him captivated. As she drew closer he called out her name, but she did not answer. Did not look.

Her golden eyes swept upwards and remained fixed on something up the path. Curiosity gnawed at him, but he dared not look up the path for every time he did -- the dream ended.

She floated closer towards him...

The dream had never lasted this long...

As she glided past him he couldn't resist the desire to wrap his arms about her. He reached out for her, but his grasping hands went straight through her. A smile played on her lips as she continued down the garden pathway.

He looked down at his hands in shock -- turning them over and over searching for the reason why they had betrayed him.

He felt his insides turn to ice.

He called her name again, and turned around. He had barely done the act when blinding white light filled his vision and burned his senses. The moonlight gardens fell away from him and he was left along in a desolate black hole of nothingness.

The light faded away, but his screams did not...

**

****

Still can't find what keeps me here

When all this time I've been so hollow inside

I know you're still there...

**

"Draco?!"

Hands were on his shoulders -- shaking him awake. The black faded away and was soon replaced with the increasingly familiar surroundings of his room. He blinked his eyes groggily and grabbed the hands that were so insistently shaking him back and forth.

"I'm awake..." He said incoherently.

"Are you alright?"

He was still half-asleep, but half-_dead_ he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Hermione?" He whispered in surprise. He squinted his eyes as they quickly adjusted to the dim lighting; the only light in the room being the one streaming in from his open doorway. It was indeed Hermione who had shaken him awake and she sat as living proof kneeling on the edge of his bed. 

Her hair was still damp from her bath and chestnut strands were falling from her messy ponytail on the top of her head. He was surprised to find her eyes filled with concern and worry. He couldn't remember if _anyone_ had ever been worried about _him_.

"What are you doing here?" He asked sitting up beneath the green silk covers of his bed.

Hermione was unfazed at seeing him shirtless _and_ in bed, "I heard you screaming. You were having a nightmare."

He shook his head, "Not a nightmare," He mumbled, "No...never a _nightmare_. It was a dream."

She leaned over him and peered into his face -- unconvinced. Her face scrunched up in a cute way as she studied his face. "Why would a dream make you scream like that?"

A thought made her face suddenly light up and she gave Draco a devilish smirk and a wink. His bewilderment gave way to embarrassment as he caught onto Hermione's train of thought. Normally, his Malfoy training would have him calm and unfazed and sneering down at her in contempt, but the fact that she was...well _Hermione_...and sitting on _his_ bed...in her nightgown made his face flame.

"It wasn't one of _those_ dreams..." He insisted preparing to defend himself, but Hermione seemed to be satisfied his answer.

Drawing her knees up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them and laid her head down upon them. Her thin silk nightgown must not be that warm...

"Well, if it wasn't a nightmare, and it wasn't a dream, and it wasn't one of _those_ dreams," She added with a giggle. "Then what was it?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. It's not like he could just tell her that her dreamed about _her_ every night. She'd never talk to him again, and **that** was worse than never being acknowledged by her in his dreams.

Hermione frowned, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's not really a big deal," He mumbled. "But thank you for offering...not many people would."

"Then they're stupid," Hermione declared stubbornly, and Draco was taken aback by her vehement tone. "If they can't see what a wonderful person you are then they **are** stupid."

Draco shook his head and scowled, "I'm a Malfoy. Malfoy's aren't "wonderful people" and that's something that I can't change."

Hermione peeled one arm away from hugging her knees and reached out her hand to lightly graze her fingertips across his cheek. "You can't lie to _me_. If you were incapable of change than you wouldn't have helped us last year."

Her eyes sparked.

"I'll always be a Malfoy."

She smiled "her smile" and Draco felt a smile of his own tugging at his lips, "I don't want you any other way." She whispered deeply.

Draco's eyes widened.

__

Her eyes flickered.

Her fingers trailed their way down his jaw line. "You're..._perfect_..."

"Hermione?" He questioned quietly. His brows furrowed.

She smiled and pulled her hand back. The golden light that had made her eyes glow phosphorescent in the darkness dimmed. "I should go...it's late."

Uncurling her legs she swung them over the edge of his bed and stood up. She had just reached the door when Draco called after her.

"Hermione, how did you get into my room?" He asked uncomfortably, thinking McGonagall had told Hermione his password and had failed to tell him hers.

Her eyes flashed gold.

"Don't worry. I don't know your password. You left your door open when you went to bed."

Draco let out a sigh of relief and heard her giggle by his door. "It's Dragon Wings."

"Excuse me?"

Draco coughed uneasily, "My password -- it's Dragon Wings."

She smiled, though she doubted he could make out her face in the dark. "Mine's Pixie Dust."

And then she was gone.

It was a long time before Draco fell back asleep. He was loath to go back to the moonlit garden and repeat the same agonizing scene over and over again. Looking, but never touching. Eventually he could fight off fatigue no longer and he drifted off to sleep. 

But _this time_ there were no gardens.

No ethereal beauty he was unable to hold in his arms.

Just the image of _her_...

Sitting with him...

Talkingwith him...

__

Looking at him...

And the scene he played over and over in his mind was not of the mysterious gardens... 

Just the feel of her hand on his cheek.

Ugh! My shortest chapter EVER for Fate.

You may say CORNY, but I rather liked the ending. I thought it was _sweet_.

Anyway, I know I said that there would be no D/Hr scenes unless I got over 70 reviews, but...I lied. Enjoy!

KissThis


	9. Unusual Companions

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Nine: Unusual Companions

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: Know the pair yet? You should...

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Too lazy to think of a *witty* disclaimer...I don't own shit...

--

Two weeks passed. Hermione's training intensified to a point of obsession. She and Draco continued to research the bizarre occurrence in _History of Magic_ but had yet to find any luck. It was on the 17th of September, after one of Hermione's more grueling days that found Hermione and Draco stretched out in the Restricted Section at half-past ten.

Hermione groaned and slammed shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. Draco looked up at her from his own book with a tired expression.

"Nothing in this one either!" She exclaimed waving it in front of his face. With a face screwed up in frustration Hermione dropped the heavy tome atop a pile of similarly unhelpful books.

Stretching like a cat Hermione got to her feet and began to scan the shelves once again. Draco propped himself up on his elbows. He started talking, but his eyes remained scanning his own book.

"You're not going to find anything..."

"Well _that's_ pessimistic," She snorted. She squinted trying to make out the fading covers in the dim light.

"No....." He drawled. "That's _reality_." He turned the page.

"Shut up," She growled half-heartedly.

"We've gone through all these books at least a dozen times."

Hermione grabbed Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions off the shelf with one hand and the other moved up to massage her temples. Draco was finding this an immensely enjoyable way to pass the time. Turning the page he chuckled quietly to himself.

"You know..." Hermione started slowly. It was obvious by her facial expression that she was trying _very_ hard not to **strangle** him. "I am finding myself _increasingly_ frustrated with you."

"You know you love me," He replied insolently -- enjoying himself immensely.

"Shut up!" She ordered, rather hysterically.

Draco actually was silent for a moment while Hermione flipped through Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. But even though he appeared to be reading his own book, from Hermione's perspective, his eyes were actually focused on Hermione's reflection in the window above him.

Though Hermione couldn't see where his eyes were looking she _had_ noticed that Draco hadn't turned the page for well over five minutes. She lowered her book.

"Draco?"

Draco let a long and overly exaggerated sigh, "My foot's asleep," He whined.

Hermione kicked him.

Draco leapt up from the floor and clutched his leg nursing the spot she had attacked. The tables had turned and it was now _Hermione_ attempting to hide her amused giggles behind her book while Draco scowled ruefully up at her.

"Ok, number one...ow! Number two...what was that for?! Number three......OW!"

Hermione's insatiable laughter continued much to Draco's disgruntled displeasure.

"You were being a prick." She giggled as if that explained everything.

"I'm _sorry_?" He retorted in a sarcastic voice.

Hermione grinned and sat down next to him, "You should be!"

Draco rolled his eyes and moved so that he was leaning against one of the bookshelves. He had just started to read again when he felt a weight on his arm. Turning his head he found Hermione to be grinning goofily up at him.

"You make a nice pillow," She said simply. Without another word she turned away and settled herself so that her back was pressed against his arm and her head was resting slightly on his shoulder as she read her own book.

Shaking his head slightly Draco went back to _his_ research.

It was some time after Draco felt Hermione's slight movements cease that he realized she had fallen asleep. He craned his neck over her mountain of curls to see that she was indeed sleeping. Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions lay open in her lap. A crumpled parchment, half-filled with Hermione's small cursive writing lay dropped at her side and the quill with which she had written those words was held loosely in her hand.

A single chestnut corkscrew fell over her peaceful face and fluttered in timing with her soft and even breathing. Her head rested heavily on his right shoulder and he could feel her cool cheek through the thin material of his shirt.

And as he stared at her an unearthly glow began to pulse within her. It spread outwards until she was encompassed within a shimmering field of white light. His eyes widened in shock as her school uniform disappeared and a white gown materialized to take its place. He was staring at the girl from his dreams.

But then he blinked and the vision disappeared.

Draco shook his head roughly trying to clear it of the traitorous images starting to roll through it. Fatigue was starting to wear on him, he finally decided. His lack of sleep had resulted in his "hallucination".

In fact, he repeated this conclusion over and over again in hopes that he might actually be able to convince himself of it. No such luck.

He looked back down at her and allowed himself a small smile. She looked so innocent. He hated to wake her, but carrying her back to the dorms seemed rather cliché. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys were _anything_ but _cliché_. Besides...he liked her better awake.

"Hermione..." He whispered. While saying this he bounced his shoulders in hopes of easing her back into wakefulness. When this failed he resorted to rudimentary tactics.

Grabbing the book he had left forgotten in his lap he positioned himself so that he could maneuver both hands. He then flipped to the middle of the pages and held the book up to Hermione's sleeping face. With a silent countdown in his head, which skipped from seven to two, he accompanied the mental zero in his mind with a booming **BANG!** as he slammed the two halves of his book together.

The result was not what he'd expected. Her left arm shot backwards and her elbow connected soundly with his nose. His cry of pain was cut short because her right fist quickly followed the elbow-reflex as she got to his feet, which hit his jaw. Hermione, only now coming into total-wakefulness, suddenly realized what she had done and fell at his side.

"Oh Draco! I'm _so_ sorry!" She gushed fumbling in her pockets for her wand. "It's become a reflex after I started training. I would've thought Harry would have warned you...same thing happened to him a few nights ago..."

Meanwhile, Draco's head was tipped back and he was holding his nose tenderly. He wanted to scream, but instead he said with calm annoyance in his voice; "Well......._ow_!"

"You shouldn't have startled me like that," She mumbled under her breath before letting out a triumphant sound at having finally located her wayward wand. With said wand in one hand she reached up and gingerly pulled his hand away.

"Let me have a look at it..." She whispered soothingly. A spell was whispered but the exact incantation escaped Draco's hearing seeing as his other senses were a bit preoccupied. Though, it was highly unlikely he would have heard it even without the throbbing pain throughout his face.

Her fingers skillfully probed his nose but, though Draco had braced himself for mind-numbing pain, all he felt was pleasantly cool iciness that sunk into his skin wherever her fingers touched. It felt very nice indeed after having had an elbow be the last thing to connect with it.

"It's not broken," She finally concluded confidently. Another spell was muttered and the pain in his nose ebbed away. She did the same to his jaw and he was left in tip-top shape.

"You almost ruined my perfectly handsome face," He joked as she stood up. Accepting her hand, Draco allowed her to pull him to his feet. A quick movement caught his eye and he watched in surprise as Hermione's wand disappeared in a flash down the sleeve of her robe.

Draco's quick glance at the clock was followed by his next words; "It's a quarter 'till midnight. We'd best be getting back to the dorms if we want to get any sleep."

Hermione nodded and began to gather her things together while Draco directed the discarded books back to their homes on the shelves with a few flicks of his wand.

They walked slowly back to the common room taking their time and enjoying each other's company. Draco seemed no worse for the ware after their "scuffle" though Hermione still felt rather guilty about the whole thing. Not that she showed it, of course, but it was definitely stored away -- right beneath a horrifying memory of a flamingo incident when she was five and an original recipe for chicken kebobs. Well...at least she _thought_ they were chicken. The mental image _was_ rather fuzzy.

While she contemplated this another un-tethered thought romped across her mind. She finally reigned it in and re-filed it promptly back under the mental filing cabinet labeled; "Prefect Duties". But the sudden thought left a lasting imprint of interest and though she debated with it for a few moments she finally decided to share her interest with Draco.

"Do you have any ideas for the Halloween Ball?" She inquired -- trying not to sound _too_ curious. "It's coming up you know."

"In a _month and a half_!" He exclaimed. His incredulous tone made Hermione flush.

"I was just wondering," She snapped defensively. "You don't have to get snippy."

She stomped ahead a few steps and as a result didn't see the amused look on her walking companion's face. If she had there would have been no doubt that her face would have turned as red as the stripes on her tie. Draco _was _taller than Hermione and it only took a few long strides until he caught up with her.

"Do _you_ have any ideas?"

Her face scrunched up, as it always did when she was concentrating or thinking hard, and she chewed absently on her lower lip.

"Costume ball?"

Draco looked reluctant in warming to Hermione's idea, "Aren't Halloween balls _always_ masquerades?"

"Well, yeah." Hermione shrugged admittedly, "But that's what makes it a tradition. Besides -- do _you_ have another idea?"

Draco had to admit that he had none -- much to Hermione's visible satisfaction. He let out a whine that sounded a lot like; "But everyone does _that_..." Hermione started to giggle, but one look at his putout expression made Hermione want to lift his mood.

"_But_...I know that you're never satisfied doing just 'what everyone else does'. For that matter, neither am I...

"And I do realize that everyone in every possible place, world, dimension, and reality makes their Halloween Balls into masquerades, but that's the tradition of Halloween -- to become something you're not...it's a chance to escape." Her voice had become soft and rich.

He looked up in surprise at her earnest tone.

'So I promise that _this_ ball will be as original and unique as it is in my power to make it -- in every possible way."

Draco continued to walk in silence. Hermione anxiously hurried to keep up. She scanned his face for any sign of reaction to her heart-felt words, but it was completely blank. She had just begun to think that he had resorted to a Malfoy's reaction to emotion when he finally opened his mouth.

"I think _all_ years should be allowed to come..."

Hermione's heart swelled. He hadn't withdrawn! She grinned and he returned it. The two then fell into an easy and comfortable discussion about the Halloween Ball they were to be preparing.

_Of course Hannah and Padme will help_, Hermione thought to herself. _And the Heads, Meghan and Adam -- I'm sure they'll be helping too. Though_, she glanced over at Draco, _they're opinions won't count for much._

Besides, she knew that together she and Draco would come up with such a wonderful plan that the others would completely fall in love with it.

"I agree," She said aloud; her mental words already fading to the back of her mind. "I mean Snape _did_ say that the balls were merely a distraction for the students."

"And that includes _all_ the students." He added, "Everyone could use the distraction -- Merlin knows _I_ could."

Hermione nodded emphatically, "If only there was something sooner to distract me from training." She paused. "No...not _training_. I have to be able to save the world and all." She added jokingly.

They both shared a small laugh at this, though neither one of them seemed too keen to be on that specific topic.

"I'd **much** rather be distracted from _after_-training. I'm constantly sore and I'm sure that I'm no fun to be around either." Hermione gave a sigh, "School has only be in session two and a half weeks and already I'm going to bed every night weary and tired and during the day I'm in mortal peril."

Draco gave a half-smile, "Looks like you've broken Potter's record by a landslide."

"I think it should be outside," Hermione mused switching quickly and easily back to the previous topic. Draco floundered only a moment before continuing the conversation with much more enthusiasm than he had exhibited only moments before.

They reached the prefect's portrait, a large gray wolf sitting on snowy grounds, after a few minutes more talk. Draco whispered the password and the door swung open. The sound of their voices as they clambered inside echoed faintly through the empty castle. 

Shuffling footsteps made their way briskly away and down the corridor, though the owner could not be seen by the half-awake, yet curious, portraits lining the castle wall.

Then they too faded away. The torches, in their metal brackets, flickered and then went out -- having no one left to illuminate the hallways for -- and the stone castle was plunged into darkness.

"How long have you been here?"

Hermione didn't spare a glance at her Swordsmaster as he entered the room. She was concentrating on maintaining the flow of power into her long sword that made it cackle with eerie blue flames.

A death eater appeared in front of her and she sent her blade whirling through his neck before he could raise his wand. With a sickening noise the head slid off the shoulders, but before it could hit the floor both head and body vanished in a cloud of green smoke.

"I'm not sure." She answered evasively.

A curse was spoken behind her and she whirled around to face another death eater. She brought her sword up in a guarding motion. The spell hit the flat of her blade and was instantly absorbed with a snapping sound. The sword vibrated. The tremors shot down her arms and spread outward until her whole body was shaking. Sweat beaded on her brow and trickled down her face. Her coral lips were pressed into a thin line as she struggled against an invisible force. Her sword began to spark.

"Shit!"

The flames dancing along her sword exploded but Hermione was at no risk of being engulfed because at that same moment a sudden power shot out of her weapon and she was flung into a wall. Her sword clattered to the ground and the fire vanished leaving it normal steel.

"Pause simulation." Snape walked past a frozen death eater and helped Hermione to her feet. She thanked him quickly and walked over to her discarded weapon. Snape noticed that she was favoring her left foot and his frown deepened.

"Miss Granger. How long have you been here?" He repeated.

Hermione sighed and bent to retrieve her sword. "Since four..." She whispered, scowling ruefully at her reflection in the steel.

Snape was so shocked he didn't answer for a moment. Summoning up his courage at lecturing the young woman he walked over to her and gave her his _best_ sneer. "It may have been a long time ago, Miss Granger, but I **do** remember being a teenager. However, I never remembering waking up at four AM on a _Saturday_ to do extra work."

Hermione sensed the reproach in his tone and flushed.

"What are you doing here? We don't have a lesson today, and I would have thought you would be with Mister Malfoy as you two are so often seen in each other's company as of late..."

Hermione fiddled nervously with the hilt of the sword; "I was trying to change the magic." She said quietly.

Snape's black eyes darted from her to the sword and then back again. "You _obviously_ weren't successful. I told you to reflect **only**."

"I know Professor, I just thought--"

"Try again."

Hermione blinked back her surprise, "E-Excuse me, sir?"

Snape gestured to the immobile death eaters, "Try again -- That is...if you think you can do it."

Her amber eyes turned from her smirking professor to the sword in her hand. Taking a deep breath she swung the huge sword into the air and assumed the standard fighting position Snape had taught her.

"Resume simulation." Snape ordered as he backed out of Hermione's way.

Knowing that Snape wanted to see her try and change the magic again, but knowing also that he secretly didn't want her to do it right away she attacked the first two death eaters with agile ferocity; cutting them down. Another one appeared alongside her and she reflected its spell first before leaping at it and, with a scream of adrenaline, slicing it down the middle.

When the next enemy appeared directly in front of her she was ready. The curse hit her blade soundly and she slid her feet outwards to stable herself. As with the other dozen times she had tried this, the vibrations traveled throughout her body. The spell may have been simulated, but the energy was real and she felt it flood through her in waves.

She began to sweat as she tried to call up her power to change the energy. Changing the energy meant turning it into her own energy and storing it inside her with the rest of it -- sort of like giving herself an energy boost. But what she thought was simple in theory was more difficult making a reality.

The spell's energy was fighting back.

She opened her eyes slowly so that she could lock amber against obsidian. He looked neither concerned about her struggle nor caring about her in any sense.

_Postvorta was wrong..._

The energy pushed and she slid backwards a few feet. A cloud of dust and dirt was kicked up in the process.

_The world doesn't love me...how could they?_

She slid back even farther.

_Not even the people who know me do. Snape doesn't even feel for me at all...doesn't believe..._

Her back was pressed to the wall as the energy shoved at her for a third time. Her heart became so numb she couldn't even feel the sword in her hands. A chill ran through her. Seconds later it felt as if an icy hand had grabbed a hold of her heart. She gasped and flung her head upwards. The hand squeezed painfully and dug its nails inside her heart turning her gasp into a scream of anguish.

"Hermione!"

Snape was by her side. The sword slid from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor. Sliding to her knees she clutched desperately at her chest. "V-Voldemort..." She hissed. "I-It hurts..."

His large hands gripped her shoulders and shook her insistently, "Come on, Hermione. I can't help you..."

The energy continued to push at her...

Voldemort's disease continued to squeeze the life from her...

Her back was digging painfully into the wall behind her, the unchanged energy was clawing for a way out, the phantom hand continued to squeeze her heart, and Snape was shaking her so hard she thought her head would fall off. Too much was happening. She couldn't seem to focus on one thing.

"You're stronger than this Hermione...fight it!"

Hermione's head fell limply forward.

Snape fought down the panic that was welling up inside of him. "You can't let him take you down this easily. The world needs you."

Hermione never thought it would go down like this. Only a few hours before she had been eagerly planning the Halloween ball with Draco, and now she was struggling to separate one thought from another...one pain from another.

_Draco..._

"What about Harry and Ron, Hermione!" Snape was shouting now, "What about Draco?!"

"D-Draco?"

_She had just raised her wand - ready to hex that damn book into oblivion when there was a low chuckle behind her. Someone reached over her and grabbed the object of her frustration. "I never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger would draw her wand on one of her beloved books..."_

"Draco!"

**

Hermione sighed, "All right. Maybe I'll explain it to you later?" She suggested to Draco holding the book across the front of her body.

He nodded and she gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek -- having to stand on her tiptoes to accomplish the second task.

"It's a date." His familiar smirk was back in place.

Hermione could feel her face flushing and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

**

__

Hermione allowed them to lead her away; her knuckles turning white from her fingers' death grip on the book. Glancing back over her shoulder her honey eyes locked with Draco's as he watched her go.

**

**__**

"Hermione..."

She froze.

****

"It's Draco."

She dropped the rag. In a panicky way she leapt at the phone and tried to cut off the message before her could continue, but Draco was already going on.

****

"Dumbledore owled me this after informing me of the new prefects for this year."

She let out an audible sigh of relief. Something school-related. There was a tapping on her window and she opened it quickly. A tawny owl, she immediately recognized as being one of the school's, shot through it and landed easily beside her sink.

****

"I don't know if you've gotten an owl from him yet, but I wanted to congratulate you, all the same. The prefects are supposed to meet on the train. Some of the teachers will be there to talk with us. I'll see you tomorrow."

**

__

"There's one flaw in your belief. I'm d--" Hermione hesitated and looked around at the people staring fixedly at her. This wasn't how she wanted to tell everyone. It had to come out sooner or later. "I'm dying."

There was a sharp inhalation of breath around the room; even from Dumbledore. She felt Draco stiffen beside her. Seeking out his hand she grabbed a hold of it quickly and intertwined her fingers with his. She squeezed it to reassure herself that there was someone with her.

The nymph glanced at their joined hands before she shook her head and her silky tendrils of hair rippled behind her, "You cannot die -- you are the Sovereign of Light."

**

__

"How can it be stopped?" Draco asked evenly.

The nymph turned slowly to face him. Her head cocked to one side as she studied him. Finally she spoke, "His magics are too powerful and too complex. They have already woven a web of death around her heart. When her strength gives out it will wrap around her and her heart will cease to beat."

"There must be something we can do," Draco insisted. The teachers were looking at him in surprise while Padme and Hannah were still trying to sort through the nymph's words. "You said it yourself -- you said she couldn't die."

"Silence human," She hissed dangerously. "Do you not think that I would do anything that I could if it meant saving her?! Do you not think that I would lay my life down in an instant if that could keep her from death's grasp?!"

She turned her head to face him again; "You would do the same........I can see it in your eyes -- I can feel it in your heart." She said in a calmer voice.

**

Her head was spinning, but one thing stood out clearly among the chaos. Draco's face. His blue-gray eyes were filled with emotion.

__

He believes in me...

She could hear his voice...

"_You _are the best person I have ever met. You're pretty, you're smart, you're funny, you're kind, sweet, innocent, stubborn, determined, clever, quick-witted, loyal, trustworthy, honest -- all these things and many more are what make you the person you are. Postvorta was right -- you _are_ the only person strong enough to bring us through this battle. You are too stubborn and too intelligent to let yourself make a mistake. I know that you will stop at nothing until to you find a plan with the least amount of casualties. You have a beautiful soul and pure heart and there is _nothing_ in this world that can stop you -- because you won't let anything stand in the way of saving the people you love. In fact.......I can't think of anyone I'd rather have lead me into battle.....then _you_."

A pinprick of light flickered deep inside her. It beckoned her, and it felt as if nothing else would matter if she could only touch that light. She reached out and grasped it.

Snape watched her head lift and her chestnut curls fall away from her face. Her amber eyes were like floodlights. The golden light bursting from them filled the room and made Snape let go of her so he could shield his eyes. The light became so bright that suddenly it exploded outward like a star going supernova.

When the spots finally cleared from Snape's vision he found Hermione to be completely change. Kneeling on the floor with her hands pressed to the ground Hermione's jeans and sweater had been exchanged for black silk. The flowing material swept up over one shoulder and back down pooling around her. Matching black ribbons laced up her legs from the sandals on her feet in a Grecian fashion. Something else caught his eye, but he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Giant, gossamer wings seemed to sprout from her back.

Hermione looked up at him and just...blinked. Her eyes were clear and golden, but they no longer shone. Her features were no longer lined with pain, and the sudden change in her entire being made Snape's jaw drop open. Hermione smiled at him and sat back comfortably on her heels.

"Professor," She beamed. "What are you doing here?"

Dun dun duuuuuunn! Hope you liked it!

Read and Review!

I don't know when I'll have the next chapter out. Hopefully, I'll get one done before Friday because that's the day I leave for Milwaukee with a friend. If I have time, I'll work on a chapter while I'm out there and post it when I get back.

KissThis!


	10. Inside the Hospital Wing

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Ten: Inside the Hospital Wing

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: Know the pair yet? You should...

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: 

__

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I have no money

So please don't sue!

--

A/N: Double digits, baby!

--

"I honestly don't remember anything, Professor."

Hermione had been brought to the Infirmary and was being examined by Madame Pomfrey as she answered Dumbledore's questions. She was sitting comfortably on one of the hospital beds with her legs curled around her and her hands resting in her lap. They looked oddly pale against the black silk of the gown that had magically appeared on her. She shifted slightly and her wings banged against the tables on either side of her. It was annoyingly obvious that the Hospital Wing _hadn't_ been built with winged people in mind.

"What was the last thing you remember, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked quietly. She knew he was taking this interrogation slowly and with ease so that her mind would be more open and ready. But it still made her feel like she was three years old. The sound of her teeth grinding against each other was the only sound in the silent Infirmary. Hermione took a moment and swallowed _very_ slowly in hopes that the simple action would calm her.

"The last thing I remember...was this great flash of light," She gestured with her hands. "And then I was bent over kneeling and I saw Professor Snape beside me. I don't remember seeing him come into the Dueling Room.

"Can you tell us what you were doing up until the point with Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sure. Let's see...I was in the library. With Draco. We were researching for anything that might've helped explain what happened between Seamus and I in History of Magic."

Dumbledore now turned to Draco, much to Hermione's annoyance, who was standing beside her bed. The old man raised an eyebrow conveying a silent inquiry.

"Is this true, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco, after glancing at Hermione's absolutely _livid_ expression, only nodded.

"Of course it's true!" Hermione snapped, "I may have lost my memory for the span of ten minutes, but I can assure you I've most certainly not gone **_retarded_**!"

McGonagall looked ill. Never had anyone in the room seen someone speak to Dumbledore in this manner, much less _Hermione_ -- the model student. She crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled a huffy sigh. Sure she didn't _mean_ to snap at the elderly man, but ever since the train-ride things had been stressed. Only Dumbledore seemed unfazed by the sudden outburst. In fact, judging by the bright twinkle in his eye, he seemed rather amused.

"I apologize," He told her sincerely. "Please continue..."

Hermione glanced over at Draco who was relieved that she was not mad at him for Dumbledore's well-intentioned action.

"It was late...midnight I think, so Draco and I left to go back to our dorms. We were talking as we went so I guess we'd been walking slower than normal. We reached the common room and I..."

Her brow furrowed as something she hadn't thought of at the time surfaced.

"I heard..."

Dumbledore was silent.

"What? What did you hear, Miss Granger?" McGonagall probed.

_Footsteps...I heard footsteps..._

She looked around at the curious faces of her friends and Professors. Harry, Ron, and Draco were there, predictably, but so were Ginny, Hannah, Padme, Meghan and Adam. McGonagall and Snape were returning her looks with curious stares, but Dumbledore was withdrawn and wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Nothing..." She whispered, slowly pulling her amber eyes from the Headmaster. "I heard nothing." She said -- stronger this time. She went on.

"After I'd retired I only managed a few hours sleep before something woke me," She paused. "A dream, I think." She shrugged. "At any rate I couldn't fall asleep again so I got up and came down to the dueling room to practice."

She shifted slightly and Harry shivered as a feather tickled the back of his neck.

"I was trying to, well...I thought that maybe, er,"

Harry watched her face tinge pink, but had no idea as to what was so difficult for her to say. Even so, he pretended to understand and taking a step closer to her bed laid a hand of support on her shoulder. She turned her flushed face upwards and her eyes instantly softened at the sight of him.

Of course, Hermione knew Harry didn't have an _inkling_ about her discomfort, but the fact that he was there for her anyway -- and showed it -- made her feel pleasantly warm inside. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and it gave her the encouragement to go on.

"I was practicing changing the magic."

McGonagall and Dumbledore shared an inhalation of breath so sharp; Hermione shrunk back in fear of being cut. Snape, however, who had already known this showed no reaction.

Ron didn't know _exactly_ what Hermione had said but judging by the way that his professors were reacting it was as if she had broken some kind of rule.

"Severus?" McGonagall said slowly and in a low voice.

Snape seemed completely unfazed. His expression was one of mild boredom and his black eyes, which had been gliding absently about the room, now rested lazily on McGonagall.

"I'd only taught her to reflect as per your instructions, Minerva. Don't get it into your head that it was my doing -- she was already attempting it before I arrived."

Now that Hermione's memory had been wiped he was the only one who remembered his taunting words to her which, regrettably, to a series of negative events. Keeping up his cold demeanor he smirked at Minerva and turned his head slightly to address Hermione.

"Is that all you remember?" His inquiry was answered by a quick nod.

"I was just running the simulation trying to change the magic and the next thing I know, I'm on the floor, dressed in a strange manner, and looking like a bloody pigeon!"

"But your wings are so _pretty_!" Ginny exclaimed, horrified at the negative tone Hermione used in describing her new..._assets._

"Absolutely gorgeous!" Padme echoed. She tossed her long black hair over her shoulder so she could have an uninhibited view of Hermione's wings as she leaned over them.

Hannah was in complete awe and was unable to speak. Beside the entranced Hufflepuff was Meghan. She was running her fingers over and through the feathers with delighted glee.

"They make you look like an _angel_." She said.

Hermione snorted, obviously **not** in agreement with the Head Girl.

Dumbledore finally stepped in, "Before we hear Professor Snape's story I must impose upon you the severity of what you have done."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, but did not look away.

"Changing magic is a dangerous theory and even more-so in reality because no one has ever done it before. You are the first person to have enough power to attempt it, but it is still a risky maneuver. I understand that since no one else has done it, present company included, we cannot advise you on how to do such a thing, but attempting to change magic without proper training _or_ supervision is very poor judgement on your part."

"I expected better of you Miss Granger," McGonagall tutted quietly.

Hermione remained silent. Glancing over, Draco saw the muscles in her face tense and her jaws clench together in anger. But Hermione was smart enough to know this was not the time to argue with her professors so she bit her tongue.

"Severus..." Dumbledore motioned to him and took a small step back.

Everyone was anxious to hear what went on in the dueling room -- Hermione especially. There was a gapping hole in her memory and she was desperate to find information that would help her connect the dots.

"Well, I was on my way to breakfast,"

At this Hermione's stomach rumbled pointedly reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat since dinner the night before.

"When I heard noises coming from the reserved Dueling Room. It must've only been 7:30. I entered to find Miss Granger working through a training simulation. The first time she tried to change the magic, though I didn't know it at the time, she was flung against the wall. Pausing the simulation to question her I found out her intentions _and_ how long she had been there. I, of course, suggested that we go and talk to you, Dumbledore, but she wanted to try again. I'm not sure what happened, but the second time I saw her try...something _happened_." Snape swallowed slowly.

"_What_ happened, Severus?" Dumbledore asked after allowing the man a moment of silence.

"Something was pushing her back -- pushing her until she hit the wall. It was when she screamed that I knew something was terribly wrong. I went to assist her and I heard her say Voldemort's name." He locked his eyes with Hermione's as she listened with rapt attention. As he had talked his voice had gone from cold and snide to a seriously soft tone that made Hermione's eyes widen.

_He's so...alone..._

"I think his spell was attacking her _pure_ heart. I can only imagine what that must have been like; not to mention combined with the energy she was trying to change." He stopped talking as the picture of pain entered his mind. The rest of the room was silent and no doubt the same image of a Hermione laced with unbelievable pain was being passed around.

Hermione's laughter broke the silence, "Glad I don't remember _that_."

Her attempt at lightening the conversation resulted in a few weak chuckles.

"So, none of this is stirring up your memories?" Adam asked hopefully. Hermione regretfully shook her head.

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, "Naturally, the best viewpoint would be Hermione's, but unfortunately that option is not open to us. Go on."

Snape nodded, "Her eyes started to glow -- then they burst out with these huge beams of light. It was so bright I was forced to look away and when it died down--"

"Archangel Barbie appeared," Hermione sarcastically finished as he trailed off. He gestured at her, signifying the end of his recount.

Harry's brow was furrowed and his emerald eyes seemed to darken, as he thought hard. Something clicked in his mind and he snapped his fingers so suddenly that Hermione jumped. Rubbing her ear that had been snapped in ruefully she gave Harry's back a mock glare.

"Professor," He said; referring to Professor Snape. "Did you say her _eyes_ glowed?"

Snape's eyes narrowed with a scowl. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Professor Dumbledore stand a little straighter.

"Yes, I **did**, Potter. Do you _ever_ pay attention?" He sneered icily.

Harry ignored him. He was nodding his head slowly and Hermione could picture the puzzle pieces coming together in his head. He seemed to be constructing the jigsaw rather fast, though, what lay on these pieces completely eluded her.

"I remember. Her eyes glowed in _History of Magic_," He said finally.

"That's right!" Ron exclaimed, "Though they didn't turn into floodlights, or anything..."

Hermione found it hard not to gape at the redhead in shock. He'd actually paid attention. He looked over at her sheepishly and she realized that he'd done so because he cared for her. Hermione's heart swelled.

Dumbledore's fingers were steepled in front of him and he flexed them thoughtfully. "Interesting observation, harry. I myself hadn't thought of such a connection until you spoke up." He tapped his tented fingers upon his chin. "This will require extensive research."

Hermione and Draco groaned simultaneously. Dumbledore smiled good-naturedly and went on.

"Your eyes, Hermione, seem to be the focal point of your power. I wonder...do they react to your feelings?"

Hermione cleared her throat; "I wouldn't really be able to tell, sir."

"Oh," He said. "Quite right, quite right."

Something clicked in Draco's brain. Her eyes had sparked that night she had come into his room. He opened his mouth to tell them this but he abruptly closed it again. He couldn't tell them she'd been in his room...in the middle of the night. Yeah, _that_ wouldn't be frowned upon. He glanced at Hermione and found her to be staring at Harry. Staring **hard**. His stomach dropped.

_Besides_, he scowled, _what would she say she'd been feeling? Annoyance at being woken? Contempt? Sympathy?_

He snorted. Yeah, he _really_ wanted to bring that up in front of a dozen people. Crossing his arms over his chest he leaned back against the wall and scowled moodily at the room.

As if sensing his unease, Hermione turned her gaze on him -- he could feel it. Hermione looked him over; from the taut muscles in his chest to the dark expression on his face. Something Dumbledore had said must've been the cause of his sudden change in mood. While the professors were conversing adamantly about the new revelation, Hermione climbed off the bed and move to stand beside him. She didn't bother to fold in her wings and as a result they practically wrapped themselves around the two. Thankfully, no one was in the way to be batted around by her wings.

When Draco's vision was filled so suddenly with white his head snapped quickly around to meet with Hermione's soulful eyes.

"Draco?" Her voice was quiet.

While Draco struggled to find his voice, Hermione went on.

"Don't be mad. I mean, if you don't want to research this new thing with me...that's ok. It's no big deal really. I'm sure Harry or Ron will...help...me..."

Hermione had slowly trailed off her words at the end because _Draco_ had started laughing. The shocked expression on her face only seemed to make Draco laugh harder. It quickly turned to a scowl. Here she was, trying to be considerate of other people's feelings, and he was **laughing** at her. 

"You totally have the wrong idea..." He chuckled.

"Well, then enlighten me as to what's got your knickers in a twist?"

His mind flitted back to his previous train of thought. It seemed so silly and insignificant now. "Nothing."

She tilted her head slightly.

"Besides, with Harry and Ron you wouldn't find _anything_."

At this hypocritical comment Hermione laughed and her eyes shimmered, "Compared to the amazing **nothing **_you've_ found."

"Your eyes...?"

"Hmm?" Hermione's brow furrowed at the odd change in conversation. A hand flew to her temple, "What about them?"

"Your eyes...they shimmered just now."

She was startled. "Really? When?"

"Right after I insulted Harry's and Weasley's researching skills."

"You were being hypocritical and you made me laugh," She grinned. "Well, looks like you've solved the mystery -- congratulations."

Her wings flexed and Draco took a step forward so he wasn't pressing against them. Hermione ran her hands down the front of her gown, and when she looked up again she noticed how close they had become. She hid her discomfort and chuckled weakly.

"I think I deserve a reward."

"As if! Wipe that cheeky smirk off your face," She snorted.

Draco gave her his most innocent look; "I don't know what you're talking about. Me? Smirk? _Never_!"

Hermione giggled and stepped closer to him so he could hear her whispered voice, "They're probably wondering what we we're doing..."

He smirked back, "They're probably staring."

"Ron and Harry are probably about to explode."

He stepped closer and Hermione's eyes widened involuntarily. Reaching up he slowly pulled straight one of her chestnut curls and then watched it spring back into a corkscrew.

"And why would that be?" He drawled.

"Because they don't trust you -- well Ron doesn't. Neither trust you with me." She swatted away another hand reaching for her hair and the owner raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Interesting."

It was all Hermione could do not to melt into a puddle of goo right there. _Was he flirting with her?! _She swallowed slowly. She didn't have much experience in this area. Much to her first annoyance there was no owner's guide to flirting -- she couldn't learn the details from a book. So she was pretty much adrift. _Damn the human hormones..._she cursed.

_Woah! Back-up the thought train!_ If he was flirting with her, which she was unsure of in the first place, why would _Draco_ be flirting?! Was he just trying to be funny? Make her flush and then have a laugh at his good joke. The muscles in her back tensed. Had he really changed as much as she thought he had? She knew she was exceedingly trusting and compassionate and in most cases that had been to her disadvantage. But she'd never given up on the belief that she could bring out the good in others. 

_That sounds SO egotistical when I think about it..._

"Now about my reward..."

She blinked slowly, "You're _still_ going on about that?"

"I can be very single-minded when I want to be."

"Don't forget stubborn, as well." Hermione laughed.

With his hands shoved in the back pockets of his trousers he rocked back and forth on his heels, "Another thing we've got in common."

"Yeah, we're real birds of a bloody feather," She snorted and brushed her wings across his back. "No pun intended."

"I will claim my reward, though. I deserve something for my amazing intellectual skills, but as for what I want -- I am undecided. But when I do decide, I'll get back to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started to turn, "I'll try not to lose sleep over it..."

"Hermione..."

Her head spun back around and almost collided with his. She hadn't realized he'd gotten so close. She blinked quickly. For a moment there she'd thought it had been coming closer, but that would have been absurd. Faces didn't need to be this close to have a conversation.

"Draco?" She said nervously but it came out no louder than a faint moving of her lips, and she doubted he had heard it. Then again he might have. It'd been so long since someone had been this "close" to her that she'd forgotten how well that could hear at such a distance.

When she finally realized that he was going to kiss her, she panicked, and had only enough time to turn her head to the side so that his lips only met the soft skin of her cheek. The instant his lips touched her she felt a tugging behind her navel, and though she knew not what it meant she braced herself for the worst. As if enough hadn't happened to her already.

Startled at Hermione's sudden rebuke, Draco pulled away with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. What had he done?

The second their physical connection ended the tug became a yank and, like a portkey, Hermione felt her world turn upside down. As if the yank was a physical entity Hermione was flung backwards into the bed. Something was happening to her gown, but she couldn't even figure out which way was up, much less look down at her apparel. Her waist hit the side and she wasn't even allowed to register the pain before the pull had flipped her over the bed. She quickly folded her wings around her body to protect herself from any further pain only to have her bare back go crashing into one of the changing screens Madame Pomfrey had set up. The screen collapsed from the impact and both Hermione and it finally stopped their trajectory against the wall.

Shifting the rubble, Hermione managed to sit up against the wall. Touching her hand tenderly to her forehead, nevertheless, she winced. She drew her hand back down to find her fingers tipped with blood. "Shit..." She hissed. The only sound throughout the whole room was the sound of the boards, once part of a changing screen, shifting as Hermione did.

With a scowl at the blood on her fingers she said, "What? Not even a 'Are you ok, Hermione?' " Her scowl deepened and she looked up.

Nobody moved.

"What is it?"

She glanced down. She was sitting sprawled out on the Hospital Wing floor completely naked.

Hermione let out an ear-piercing scream.

Sorry if it's bad 'cause I didn't read over the last couple of pages -- I just typed. My contacts keep getting fuzzy, so I'm gonna take that as my cue that it's time for bed. Enjoy!

KissThis


	11. Happy Birthday, Hermione

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Eleven: Happy Birthday

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.

Pairing: Umm...duh?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Well...after I wished for Draco, and Orlando Bloom, and a cookie I didn't have any more wishes to wish for the rights to own Harry Potter. Damn genie -- I should've wished for more wishes...

--

A/N: Hermione's birthday! Yay for her! I worked pretty damn hard on this chapter so you damn well better like it! 

--

Special Thanks: Thanks a bunch to RememberingME! She helped me brainstorm a bunch of plot points for the story and deserves an honorable mention. *coughcough*readherstories*coughcough*

--

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Hermione's eyelids fluttered open and her eyes settled sleepily on the faces of her friends. Groaning slightly she contemplated the possible consequences of ignoring her friends and going back to sleep. True, she might get a few more hours of sleep, but more than likely her boisterous friends would not be deterred. There would be bouncing, and tickling, and she'd probably be pushed forcefully out of bed and end up on the cold floor. With a sigh and a rub of her eyes Hermione sat up beneath the layers of her sheets. Making out with her carpet was not high on her list of things to do that day.

"Morning," She mumbled with a yawn.

They echoed with more enthusiastic greetings than she had given while she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the sleep from them. Ginny clambered onto the bed next to Hermione and yanked the blankets off. Hermione pouted as her warm comforter slid over the side of her bed and pooled into a gold colored heap on the floor.

"Giiiiiinny!" She whined.

"Get up already, Hermione. We have so much planned for today." The redhead insisted.

Hermione reluctantly slid out of her queen-sized bed. The nightgown she was wearing fell back into place around her. The lilac-colored material reached her knees and sashayed back and forth as she walked to the bathroom.

"I'm flattered that you guys remembered my birthday, and all. And the fact that you have things planned is _great_, but..."

Their faces fell simultaneously, "But?" Ron asked weakly.

"But it's _Sunday_!" She exclaimed; earning chuckles of amusement from her relieved friends. "Couldn't you _at least_ have let me sleep late?"

"It's already eight o'clock!" Harry pointed out. He gestured to her bedside clock, which had just flashed to 8:11.

"Oh _already_," She replied sarcastically. "Thanks for taking my beauty sleep into mind." Grabbing her bathrobe off the back of a chair she disappeared into the bathroom.

She reappeared less than twenty minutes later pulling the hem of her tank top down over her stomach. Her hair was still wet, but she had pulled it back into two french braids that trailed down past her shoulders. She smiled softly and gave a little twirl to show off her outfit.

"Fab skirt, 'Mione." Harry complimented.

Hermione flushed slightly and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Thank you _Chanel _& _Gucci_." She drawled out in a tone laced with sarcasm.

Harry flushed.

Hermione had to admit the skirt _did_ look pretty good on her. The denim skirt fell to her knees and tapered to a point in the front and back. Slits ran up both sides and were laced loosely together by thin, brown leather ties.

"Though creepishly feminine Harry's comment was he had a point. That skirt looks **hot** on you." Ginny said.

"Thanks guys. My aunt owled it to me last week; said she got it for me when she went to Paris for a business trip." She ran her hands down the front smoothing out invisible wrinkles. While she was compulsively fixing her appearance she tugged absently on her blank tank top. The 'Foxy' decal, written in silver over a heart, stretched slightly out of proportion and then resettled itself back into its normal shape.

"How did you guys get into my room anyway? They have passwords for a reason."

It was Draco who rose his hand with a smirk, "Yeah that would be me. I let the little Gryffindors in. So sorry, but I _couldn't_ miss the look on your face when they interrupted your "beauty-sleep". Quite priceless, actually."

Hermoine glared at him, "That's the last time I give _you_ my password. You're not s'pose to use your knowledge for evil." Her reprimand was followed by a sharp whack of her wand against his skull, which made the Gryffindors wince in sympathy.

Rubbing his aching head ruefully he grinned cheekily down at Hermione, "I'd say I'm sorry, but you know I wouldn't mean it."

Hermione laughed and her eyes shimmered in delight, "You're probably right and I'll let your indiscretion slide. _This _time. But you're on probation, mister!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Leaning down to face level he winked at her.

Keeping her face schooled in an expression of mild interest she ignored his flirtatious gesture and simply walked past him. Snagging her best friend on the way she flung her arm over Ginny's shoulder and walked with her out of the room. "So Gin, what birthday festivities have you cooked up this year?"

"Ok, we've been out for breakfast, and then we went shopping. Now where to for lunch?"

Juggling her shopping bags just outside Madam Malkin's, Hermione was attempting to fish out her wand in order to shrink her purchases.

"We're having lunch out on the lake," Draco told her while Harry, stepped up to help Hermione shrink her bags. "It was Harry's idea." He said with a frown growing on his face as he watched the pair.

Hermione brushed her braids over her shoulder. Turning back to Harry as he stowed her now-shrunken bags into her purse she grinned up at him. "Boat?"

"Uh huh."

"Tubes?" She asked hopefully.

Harry made a shocked face, "_Of course_! What do you take me for? A Neanderthal?" He mocked. "It would be a sin if we didn't tube."

"I LOVE YOU!" Hermione squealed in delight and leapt at him. They were both laughing hysterically as Harry spun her around a few times before setting her back on the ground. Ron, Ginny, and Draco shared a confused look having all grown up in the _wizarding_ world. Unsure of what they had gotten themselves into they allowed Hermione and Harry to drag them to Hogsmeade's marina.

"Which one is it, harry?" Hermione asked scanning the rows of boats anchored along the dock. Harry fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. He smoothed it out slightly and held it up so he could read the small printed.

"We have _The Elexus_ rented for the afternoon."

"Oh, I see it!" Ginny cried. She was pointing off at something in the distance and jumping around excitedly as if she were standing barefoot on scalding hot sand. "There it is -- at the end!"

When she finally stopped bouncing around long enough for the rest of them to spy exactly where she was pointing.

"Let's hurry and change -- I can't wait to see it up close!" Hermione insisted. Together she and Ginny raced back to the boat shack dragging the boys behind them.

--

"Hermione, are you wearing that green bikini you picked up this morning?"

"Ron!?" Ginny exclaimed in disbelief. She gave his arm a good smack while the trio of boys chuckled at the younger woman. Hermione's own laughter could be heard as well from within the changing stall.

"It's ok Ginny. Leave him alone," Hermione laughed. "If he's beaten up we'll _never_ win the Quidditch Cup."

Ginny, being one of the Chasers on said team, grudgingly stepped away from her older brother with a glare, but not before she gave his shoulder one last punch. They all fell silent until the rustling of Hermione's clothes as she changed became annoyingly loud.

"So are you?"

"HARRY!?"

Everyone, but Ginny -- who was so disbelievingly shocked to do much of anything -- erupted into roaring laughter. Hermione's head appeared over the top of her stall door as she held herself up with her arms folded over the top.

"Ginny! _Breathe_. It's a perfectly normal question and I'm sure Ron and Harry didn't mean for it to sound anything more than a friendly inquiry. Right guys?" She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at the pink faces of her two friends.

"And no, I'm wearing the green one."

They moaned.

"Actually, I think you'd look better in green than purple." Draco mused.

Hermione snorted, "You like anything that's in your House colors."

Draco shrugged minutely, "True story."

"But you're not really _wearing_ your swimsuit," Ron argued. At Hermione's puzzled look he pointed to her bare shoulders -- evidence that in fact she was _not_ physically wearing the green, halter swimsuit. Hermione glanced down at where Ron was pointing reflexively and looked back up at them with a grin.

"Oh, quite right, though you shouldn't let your eyes drift down that way, Ron."

Ron just laughed, "Why not? I've seen you a lot more naked than that."

Hermione flushed dark red and dropped back down to the floor, her bare feet hardly making a sound as they impacted with the carpet.

"Thanks for reminding me of that awful moment in my life." She replied. Her clipped and sarcastic tone was slightly muffled through the wooden door.

Ron's face fell realizing his error and he sunk lower in his seat as three pairs of annoyed and angry eyes bore into him.

"Nice going, Ron." Harry muttered before turning to watch the water lapping against the docks.

"Do you _ever_ use that pathetic excuse of a brain, Weasley?" Draco growled. He too turned away, but his gaze went to scanning the large building in which they waited.

"He may have put it in more colorful terms, but Draco's right, Ron. You can be such an insensitive prick, sometimes." Ginny sighed and started to study her nails without sparing her brother a second glance.

Ron knew that he had to rectify the damage he had caused. He stood up and ran a nervous hand through his gelled hair turning his perfect creation into a tousled mess. He walked over to Hermione's stall and raised a hand to knock just as the door opened. She was wearing her dark green tankini that was held up by a single strap that went around her neck making the plunging neckline revealing yet tasteful. Tied around her waist was a black sarong that came down to her ankles, but parted nicely up to mid-thigh when she walked.

One look at his expression and disheveled hair that she knew was the result of a nervous tendency to run his hands through it, and Hermione's heart instantly melted. Holding up a hand Ron's apology died on his lips.

"It's alright, Ron. I forgive you."

His face broke into such a look of relief that Hermione's smiled widened automatically. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed his cheek. "Let's head to the boat."

The others fell in behind them as she continued out the door talking with Ron.

"You sure it's ok -- 'Cause I didn't mean to--"

"It's okay, Ron, really. But you can join Draco on probation." Her nose wrinkled and she crossed her arms over her chest. "It was just a weird experience is all -- it was like...like having a brother see you naked."

Ron's mouth dropped open.

"I mean creepy central."

"_Ouch_." Ginny whispered to Harry and Draco.

Hermione, blissfully unaware, went on, "I mean I'm just glad it'll _never_ happen again."

Draco's eyes went wide as saucers before he began to chuckle under his breath. Ron's mouth kept opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Ooh, right in the kisser." Ginny hissed wincing at Hermione's blunt and oblivious comment. Harry turned slowly to face her.

"You like commentating on everything she says, don't you?"

Ginny grinned and brushed the rust colored hair from her eyes. "Only the good stuff. And besides I'm her only _girl_ best friend -- it's my job."

Harry chuckled, "I do feel bad for Ron though." He said, "_Brother_?! That's pretty harsh."

Ron was now dragging his feet leaving Hermione all alone and leading the way. Draco made an indifferent noise and as a thought came to him suddenly turned to Harry.

"You know...you're right. Rotten luck for Weasley -- you should cheer him up. I'll keep the lady company." Quickening his pace, with a smirk at Harry's dropped jaw, Draco caught up to Hermione.

Draco and Hermione, chatting in-depth about the upcoming Halloween Ball, were the first to reach the end of the dock.

"_The Elexus_ is huge!" She exclaimed.

Harry had come up behind her while she was speaking and now flung an arm over her shoulder. "Being me does have its perks." Hermione laughed and he picked her up easily and dramatically carried her onto the boat. A less than thrilled Draco followed after.

--

"What do you mean I'm supposed to ride that thing?!"

"Come on, Draco."

Draco held up his hands, "Ok, let me get this straight. You want me to lay on this _plastic_ tube while being dragged behind a **SPEED**boat?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes that's right."

Ginny took a step away from the tube.

"You guys are such babies!"

After they had transported the boat to the lake outside Hogwarts -- for more space -- they had eaten lunch and now Harry and Hermione were trying to convince their friends that tubing was fun...not a deathtrap.

Ron tentatively prodded the yellow tube resting on the back of the boat. "Is this some secret plan to kill me, 'Mione? I said I said I was sorry!"

"I'm **not** trying to kill you. It's really fun."

Silence.

Letting out a groan of frustration she threw her hands up in the air, "Fine! I'll go first. And when I _don't_ die you'll all see how silly you're being."

Taking her wide brimmed hat off her head and setting it down on the boat seat she began untying her sarong. It was now that the rest of them realized that she had undone her braids up to the base of her neck and fastened the tails into a single ponytail. Hermione finally got her sarong off and she stowed both it and her hat in one of the seat compartments.

"I'll drive, 'Mione." Harry volunteered. "Seeing as how I'm the only one who knows how."

Hermione smiled gratefully up at him as he helped her push the tube off the back and into the water.

"I'll get you a lifejacket." Hermione's hand on his arm stopped him.

"It's ok. I'll just alter a floating charm." Harry nodded and headed to the front of the boat.

Ginny was still staring at the tube that was floating placidly behind the stopped boat. Hermione had finished her charm and was checking the rope that connected the tube to the boat when Ginny's head tilted to the side and she said: 

"It looks like a loaf of bread."

Hermione turned to her and gave her a disbelieving look of shock.

"Yeah! A bread-loaf of **_death_**!" Ron shouted.

Harry revved the engine, "Hermione! Let's go."

"I'm going," She called back and jumped into the lake. Seconds later her head popped back above the surface as her floating charm kicked in. With powerful strokes Hermione's arms cut easily through the water as she swam out to the tube. Climbing on quickly she lay flat on her stomach and grabbed a hold of the handles.

"Harry!" She yelled, "I'll go one round and then we can switch it up. This tube'll hold two."

"Alright -- here we go!"

"Do your worst!"

They watched for a while as Hermione's tube slid slowly back and forth across the wake and just when they had started believing that tubing wasn't really Hermione's subtle way of killing them off Harry turned the boat hard right. Hermione was ripped from her comfortable position in the wake's center and whipped around in the opposite direction of the turning boat. The churning waves and the roar of the boat's motor drowned out her high-pitched squeals of delight.

Ginny leapt up from her seat and staggered uncertainly up to the driver's seat. Actually, she just bounced herself back and forth against the walls like a pinball machine hoping that, when combined with the rocking of the boat, it would propel her forward rather than backwards and, conversely, not make her vomit at the same time.

"**_HARRY!_**" She exclaimed grabbing his shoulder. The result of her shouting was not an appreciated one. Her hand instantly went to her stomach. Harry swerved sharply back to the left and Ginny swore she could feel her internal organs banging together.

"Harry!" She tried again, this time with a little less energy. "What are you trying to do? You're gonna kill her!"

Harry laughed and looked up at her from his seat, "Don't be such a worry-wart, Gin. This is _fun_."

Ginny clenched her fists and rested them angrily on her hips. "Ok, number one -- don't call me that. Number two, last time I checked Hermione didn't have 'near-death-experiences' filed under _fun_." She leaned in closely and her voice dropped, "And third, it's not just Hermione at risk," She hissed. "She's the --"

"Gryffindor Prefect?" Harry interjected cheekily.

He turned the wheel back to the right suddenly, earning some gasps from Ron and Draco as Hermione bounced up and down, and held it there pulling her around in a donut.

"She's the Champion." Ginny finished deliberately.

"Really? You know I think I missed the memo..." He replied sarcastically glancing over his shoulder to check on Hermione.

"Harry. Can't you _ever_ be serious?"

He turned back to her.

"I don't care if she's some Sovereign of Light -- I don't care if she's the bloody queen of England!" He told her stubbornly. "She's still Hermione. And it's _still_ her birthday."

Ginny was silent. Her hands slowly unclenched as her protective anger left her and one moved up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Can't she just be a girl for one day? Just be Hermione?"

When Ginny finally looked up and met Harry's eyes she smiled faintly and nodded.

Harry turned back to focus on driving. Letting up on the gas he slowly ease the boat to the left. Hermione, surprised at the sudden lack of speed, sat up slightly and stared at the boat. Once Harry had let the boat drift far enough he slammed on the gas and yanked a screaming Hermione through her own waves.

Too startled to focus properly Hermione only lasted twenty seconds before she was flung off the tube and into the cold water. Her head popped instantly back above the churning waves and she watched as Harry turned the boat around to come pick her up.

--

The rest of the afternoon was spent tubing and water skiing across Hogwart's lake. Several students and staff members stopped to watch as they passed by. They certainly had something to stare at as the entire group attempted to fit on the tube as the boat was magically piloted -- needless to say, it was a hilarious sight that didn't last long. Ron tried to tube standing up while holding onto the rope used for water skiing. He lasted longer than expected, but the enormity of the tube made it difficult to maneuver and it was soon flipped over when it skidded out of the wake. Another time, when Draco was trying to balance Hermione sitting on his shoulders and water-ski at the same time, Lavender and Parvati had been on their way to Hogsmeade when they stopped to watch their friends antics. The two girls catcalled so loudly that they caught Hermione and Draco off guard and sent them tumbling into the water.

When the sun began to set their hunger kicked in and they decided to head in. Harry finished returning the boat and met them outside the rental shack. When they had gotten out of the boat Ginny had taken Hermione's sarong and it was now tied around her waist. Hermione now wore the white dress shirt Ginny had come in. As Hermione walked she swung her purse back and forth and chewed on the hem of her sleeve.

"I'm starving...what are we doing now?" She asked. She looked up and scanned the dark clouds above. Lifting a hand she brushed back the loose strands of hair from her face.

"Back to the castle. There's gonna be a party for you in Gryffindor Tower," Ginny said. The redhead looked back over her shoulder at Hermione, "It is gonna rock!"

"Presents?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Yeah! Now let's go -- they can't start the party without the birthday girl!"

Hermione laughed as Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him as the entire group broke into a run.

Read and Review! Much more birthday fun coming up in the next chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to get it done and posted before I get called into work!

Much love!

KissThis


	12. A Special Gift

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twelve: A Special Gift

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later.

Pairing: Umm...duh?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I spilled my Orange Mocha Frapuccino on the documents proving that I owned Harry Potter and now they won't accept them as"Legitimate"

--

A/N: The end of Hermione's birthday! And I know some of you were kind of disappointed that there wasn't much Hermione/Draco action...not that they're the pairing (lol)... but rest assured there are much yummy scenes in this chapter with a twisty little end! And now that I've said that...no skipping to the end!

--

Special Thanks: Thanks a bunch to RememberingME! She helped me brainstorm a bunch of plot points for the story and deserves an honorable mention. *coughcough*readherstories*coughcough*

--

"Come on, Hermione! Let's dance." Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

Hermione quickly set down the book Neville had gotten her as she was dragged away from her pile of unwrapped presents. Hermione took a firmer grip on Draco's hand and the two of them threaded their way through the throng of bodies. They passed Padme and some other Ravenclaws and the raven-haired girl gave Hermione a pointed look to which Hermione blushed.

As they passed by students from all houses that had been invited into the Gryffindor Common room Hermione smiled faintly. Only a year ago she would have found this bizarre and immensely improbable. The four houses just **didn't**mingle. And now...

"Oh, Blaise!" She exclaimed pulling the Slytherin into a hug. "Thanks so much for the present!"

He smiled and gave her a hug back before he relinquished her back to Draco's grasp, "You're welcome. Happy Birthday, 'Mione."

Draco nodded at Blaise and continued on past the group of dancing people. Reaching the common room door he pulled it open and started to walk through. Hermione didn't budge.

"But, Draco. I thought we were going to dance."

Draco grinned, "Ok, so we're _not_ going to dance, but I want to show you something."

Hermione looked at him curiously.

"Don't you trust me?"

She hesitated a moment and then smiled. Draco smiled too and led her out of the common room.

---

Hermione held one hand searchingly out in front of her while the other remained clasped firmly in Draco's. A blindfold had been placed over her eyes and she was being guided blindly to God knows where, and her solution to it all...was to _babble_.

"Maybe we should have told someone we were leaving. I mean, I _am_ the birthday girl. Someone must've noticed I'm gone by now. And I don't want anyone to worry. I should've said something because they're probably looking for me rather than enjoying the party and I _really_ want them to enjoy the party. Maybe--"

"Hermione." Draco said suddenly, cutting off her tirade. "I think everyone has had one-too-many Butterbeers to notice your short absence."

Hermione couldn't see his face, obviously, but she could hear him chuckling and felt slightly relieved. He squeezed her hand then, and it was so quick and soft that she thought for a moment that she might have imagined it. She turned to look at him. Tilting her head slightly she gave him a puzzled expression before remembering that she was blindfolded.

Blushing faintly at her minor lapse in memory she turned her head away and resigned herself to be led quietly to wherever their destination might be.

---

When Draco finally stopped, Hermione had only the faintest clue where they were. All she knew was that they were outside. Easily deduced by the soft breeze and the tickling of grass through her high heels. But as to where or how far they had walked she had no idea. She thought she was going to burst with curiosity.

He dropped her hand and Hermione heard him move behind her. As he toyed with her blindfold the anticipation mounted and she bit down on her lip to keep from squealing in excitement. The feeling of his fingers moving through her hair was almost enough to distract her, but when he finally untied her blindfold all thoughts were of what she would find when she opened her eyes.

"Oh, Draco!" She gasped.

She was standing in the middle of the gigantic Quidditch stadium. The stands loomed high over her head and the pitch seemed so much bigger when you were actually standing on it. Hermione turned around and around again taking in every breathtaking detail. Draco watched her spin with unbridled feeling. Her whole body shimmered in the moonlight that filtered down through the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and her face was filled with awe.

"Do you like it?" He drawled. His hands fell into his pockets and he rocked back and forth on his heels. She whirled around to face him. With a beaming smile she ran to Draco and embraced him.

"Oh, I _love_ it!" She murmured. Releasing him she took a step back, and had another quick look around at the empty stands. "It's gorgeous."

"I hope you're hungry." He said.

Hermione nodded, "There were just so many people to greet and presents to open that I didn't have time to grab anything to eat." She replied as she gazed up at the cloudy sky framing the bright moon.

Draco chuckled, "Good." Grabbing her shoulders, Draco turned her around, as he would a small child, and directed her gaze downwards.

A small table was erected upon the grass. Tall, green candles illuminated the white tablecloth and made the silver dinnerware upon it shine. Crystal goblets were half-filled with a rich, red liquid that from this distance Hermione could not put a name on. Movement caught her eye, distracting her from her scanning of the table, and she looked over at Draco who had executed a dramatic bow. She giggled even more as he gallantly pulled out her chair and gestured for her to sit. Sit she did and found the chairs to be more comfortable than they had first appeared. She would have thought she was sitting on a pillow if she hadn't seen the chair for herself.

Draco sat down opposite her. "Dinner is served," Reaching over he pulled the lids off of the different foods and then banished the covers back to Hogwart's kitchen. He watched in satisfaction as Hermione's eyes lit up upon seeing her favorite foods.

"Chinese! How did you know?" She exclaimed. The steam billowing up from the dishes and the tempting aromas they released became too much for Hermione and she reached for the plate of sesame chicken.

"I confess. I asked Ginny and she told me."

Hermione laughed and grabbed some garlic breadsticks. "That's alright, Draco. It's the thought that counts." She paused to take a bite of her chicken. "Mmm...this is delicious!"

"_That_ is my doing. I cooked the food myself."

He bit into a strawberry and licked the sticky fruit juice off his fingers. Hermione practically choked on her food. Forcing herself to take the time to chew and swallow she accomplished both in record time. "_You _cooked?!" She asked in amazement. A faint pink rose in his cheeks as he flushed in embarrassment.

"Sure...well the house elves helped a _little_ bit..."

Hermione laughed out loud at his obvious discomfort finding his sudden humbleness something to giggle about. Draco scowled at her and stabbed angrily at his food. Fearing that her laughter had given Draco the wrong impression, Hermione reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. He lowered his fork and looked up at her in surprise.

"It was a nice thing that you did for me." She told him earnestly, "And I appreciate it." Her amber eyes were wide and they sparked with light.

"Anything for you, 'Mione." He returned with a smirk characteristic of his usual snarky persona.

---

They had passed the, surprisingly, scrumptious dinner with easy and comfortable conversation. Every time a topic ended another one was brought up immediately after the other leaving no gaps for awkward silences of any kind. The theme of discussion varied from potions, to books, to embarrassing moments. Anything they could think of, they talked about.

As Hermione listened to Draco summarize a book on Transfiguration he had read over the summer she thought about how easy it was to just sit here and talk with him for hours. It wasn't like with any of her other friends. They shared the same opinions, the same tastes. Even their interests were the same -- well unless you counted the fact that Draco's highest interest was becoming an Auror. True, being an Auror would be nice, and it _was_ a job that she was seriously considering, but she thought 'saving the world' pretty much took the number one spot.

"Oh _no_..."

Hermione was broken from her reverie and the first thing she saw was Draco scowling up at the sky with his hands uplifted. Large beads of water splashed onto his face at slow intervals that were quickly becoming few and far between.

Her mind rooted through thoughts at lightening fast speeds; linking things together. The sky had been overcast all day and yet she hadn't given the obvious signs a second thought. Well, until now of course.

"Don't worry, Draco." She tried to push back her chair, but found the grass to be resistant to her efforts, so she slid off the side and lifted the chair up and backward to give herself room to move about. Moving quickly she started to recover all the plates, and remembered, half a moment later that Draco had magicked them away at the beginning of the dinner.

"Leave them," Draco told her with a low chuckled. A draught of wind across the open field sent strands of her hair floating across her cheeks and bare neck. Hermione blinked several times as if she couldn't comprehend the two simple words he had said, and ran her hand though the wildly curled, sepia fleece of her hair. Straightening ever so slowly her eyes flickered from the hand he held out to her and the sly smile on his face.

"What are you up to, Malfoy?" She asked suspiciously. A smile danced on her pale lips.

"Just give me your hand, _Granger_." Was his reply. The way he stressed his switch to her last name made her smile widen. Her nose crinkled up in curiosity and when she laid her hand in his she was pulled quickly away from the table and into the open expanse of the Quidditch Pitch.

The drizzle was drizzle no longer; heavy raindrops splashed against her dress, threatening to turn it into a waterlogged burden, and darkness dropped across the stadium. Yet, oddly, Hermione was unconcerned.

The sky continued to pour its liquid tears...

The white material of Hermione's dress became thin and sheer...

Draco's platinum locks fell over his eyes and tiny rivulets of rainwater dripped off their tips...

The sudden darkness was only illuminated by the candles still sitting upon the table...

Silent music began to play...

The candles' flames sizzled and went out...

And bodies close together..._they danced_...

Review please! Much love to everyone who has been so patient while I try to continue this story while juggling my summer job at the same time.

KissThis


	13. The Morning After

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirteen: The Morning After

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - if not now, then later.

Pairing: Obvious

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Piffle. I wish I owned Harry Potter. Unfortunately, the only things I own are a bent coat hanger and a Magic 8 Ball that's sprung a leak. Thank you, I'm here all year.

--

A/N: Okthe beginning of this chapter is going to require a little thinking on your part. Not a lot -- just a little. I hope this chapter came out as well as it sounded in my head.

--

Special Thanks: Thanks a bunch to RememberingME! She helped me brainstorm a bunch of plot points for the story and deserves an honorable mention. *coughcough*readherstories*coughcough*

--

Hermione sat bolt upright as if an invisible string had "pulled" her awake. The green satin sheets of her bed fell from her naked body and pooled around her waist. 

Even as she worked her way to the realization that she had in fact been pulled from Dreaming and back into the real world, the leathery feel of her tongue and the taste of last night's meal on her breath made themselves known.

With the bathroom as her destination, Hermione flung her covers off and dropped to the floor. The cold wood floor sent icy jolts up her legs, which startled her, but were not enough to bring her completely into wakefulness. Dark and shadowed shapes registered dimly in her mind and she saw the scene in her mind; fuzzy, like looking through a thick-paned sheet of glass.

The sharp corner of the bedside table connected painfully with her knee and she banged her toe against an object just past that; almost knocking it over. Hermione exhaled her breath in a long, low hiss of pain. Finally her hand grasped a doorknob. In a sign of relief her shoulder sagged and she pulled open the door.

Cotton scratched her cheeks and different textures assailed her exposed skin. She groped for the light, but knocked something down in the process. As it brushed her leg its smooth surface was icy against her skin.

_This is **not** the bathroom_

Somehow she had ended up in the closet when she had really been trying to reach the bathroom.

"Must've gotten...turned around." She muttered dazedly to herself.

An aroma reached her now. She sniffed the air around her delicately until she could recognize it as a smell she'd only encountered precious little in her life. It smelled of _sex_.

Her amber eyes, which until now had been half-closed with early-morning fatigue, now widened dramatically. The primal scent brought her back to wakefulness in a way nothing else could and she was suddenly _very_ aware of the things around her.

This was **not** her room...

She saw _everything_ her sleepy mind at failed to register upon first contact..

The closet and the bathroom having switched places.

The green and silver striped tie that had fallen from its closet hook at her feet.

The broomstick she had stubbed her toe against.

The hardwood floor instead of plush carpet.

The green satin sheets where there should only be golden silk.

She couldn't stop her eyes from traveling up those same sheets and landing on the man lying wrapped within them. It was impossible to ignore him when his pale looks made him stand out. Frosty ivory skin was instantly visible everywhere the satin sheets became tangled. He stirred slightly and Hermione held her breath apprehensively. But he did not wake; simply rolled over and nuzzled his head into the adjacent pillow. Silvery blonde locks fluttered upwards as he breathed out and then drifted back down at every inhalation.

_Oh my god..._

Everything was coming back into focus. The events of the previous night went whirling through her mind like tiny frames in a slideshow. Her own screams of pleasure continued on through visions of unfamiliar faces and scenes of different times. Everything was so jumbled and she couldn't force herself to sort through all her thoughts.

Hermione stumbled about the room as quietly as she could; grabbing her scattered items of clothing and pulling them on as she went (How her tie ended up hooked around the bathtub faucet she had no idea). And even then she continued to remember the scenes of the night before -- still whirling violently through her mind-vision.

She shivered as she relived the passion and pleasure. Suddenly, she was inside her memory seeing things as she had the night before. Blonde hairs brushed against her forehead and she screamed as she was buried beneath the waves of ecstasy. But even as her body teetered on the brink her head was sharp and clear. Strange faces appeared out of the shadowy corners of her mind. They had no names; no bodies.

The primal energy Draco had stirred inside of her had released something_ else _inside of her. Perhaps something to do with her power. It was an odd feeling; being detached from her other senses as Draco ravished her body. Hermione heard her own voice scream out his name just as an invisible hand pushed her over the cliff and a golden light burst out across her body.

Falling never felt so good.

Draco called out as well, but she hadn't heard him. Her body was pulsing with a warm amber light and the ultimate plan that would save the world was just starting to form in her subconscious mind.

Hope's power had taken over. Something about Draco, something he had done, had pushed it to the surface -- brought it to consciousness. How had he managed to make her power erupt where she had failed?

She would be seething with anger if she hadn't just done what she did. Hermione was torn between what she should do. If there had been a mirror near by she would have seen her amber eyes flickering wildly with their haunting ocher glow.

Draco shifted again and Hermione fled.

The beeping of Draco's alarm clock awoke him an hour later. He lay there a moment, as was his routine, and listened to the device emit a series of varied beeps and rings. A pale hand rose from the sea of green and flicked its power switch. His gaze then turned from his own hand to the window overhead and the prism of light that was shining through it. He inhaled deeply expecting fresh Scotland air to greet his lungs, but was instead filled with the muggy stench of his sealed off room. In the thrall of last night's "activities" his usual habit of opening his window before sleep had been forgotten. Thinking about the incredible hours he had spent with Hermione made him smile. Still filled with the erotic memories of their lovemaking he rolled over and reached out for her warm body beside his own. His hand met nothing but rumpled sheets already cool and devoid of any human warmth Hermione had bestowed upon them.

"Hermione?" He asked loudly into the silence. Draco strained his ears in hopes of hearing the diminished sounds of running water coming from his bathroom, or the riffling through of clothes from within his closet. But it was useless.

Hermione was gone.

Hermione's foot taped impatiently upon the stone as the gryphon staircase leading to Dumbledore's office slowly twisted downwards. And when the main floor came into view, Hermione didn't even wait for the magic staircase to stop, but ducked under the doorframe and hopped off. She had just been excused from a _very_ interesting meeting with Dumbledore; one which, she herself, had initiated.

The clicking of her shoes on the stone was embarrassingly fast and she felt her face heat up, though no one was in the halls to see it. It wasn't as if time was short. Nevertheless, she felt the need to rush. Especially if she was going to catch Professor Snape before class started. She wanted to be able to talk with him when there were no shields between them.

Even now she found herself standing outside the dungeon door. Placing her palm on the old oak she gave it a firm push and then followed through the space it had opened. Snape was sitting at his desk; swathed in his usual layers of black he was almost indiscernible from the dark and shadowed background of his classroom. The sleek eagle quill in his hand scratched quietly against a stack of smooth parchments. Bold red ink -- still wet -- glistened blatantly upon the backgrounds of sepia. He was checking papers.

The click of the door's handle as she closed it behind her made her Professor look up from his requisite duties. He gave her a quick once-over and then his eyes darted to something on his desk. Hermione, who had become quite fluent in Snape's speech patterns and his tiny idiosyncrasies, took this release from his gaze as her cue to continue up to his desk.

"You're here rather early, Miss Granger." He commented dryly. Hermione hoisted herself up onto the corner of his desk and sat there; he turned a small object toward her. It was a clock. Hermione become momentarily enraptured with the tiny second's hand as it steadily ticked its way around beneath the glass plating. She guessed that this was what Snape had glanced at upon her entry. He placed the small timepiece back in its place and adjusted it slightly so that it was exactly as it had been.

"Obsessive compulsive are we?" She mused aloud -- meaning the clock. Snape sneered up at her and dabbed his quill tip back into the inkwell -- pointedly refraining from comment.

Hermione sat there with her legs crossed and her fingers drumming idly on her knees listening to the subtle sounds of Snape's quill. But while she seemed to be waiting quietly for class to start the mischievous smile on her face told another story. With a dramatically loud huff several strands of hair drifted away from her face. Snape glanced up. As her cinnamon curls were blown upwards her amber eyes became clearly visible. 

Hermione's head tilted slightly as obsidian met gold. Hermione watched her professor's eyes narrow and the corner of his mouth twitch. Her own impish grin tweaked upwards and her nose scrunched up at some hidden amusement that completely eluded her professor. And he wasn't sure, but he could have sworn her eyes had shimmered just a moment ago.

Shaking his head minutely he turned back to his work and Hermione took this opportunity to strike. Reaching her hand right under Snape's crooked nose she took a hold of the clock and turned it left. Snape stared hard at his displaced possession and gave Hermione a withering glare.

"Is there something that you need, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's lips pursed as she caught her professor's discreetly obsessive glances at his clock. "Actually, there is. I'm going to be leaving for a few days. In fact, I won't be able to attend today's class. I just came in to get the homework I'll be missing."

Snape set down his quill. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the parchment on top of the pile -- the one Snape was currently working on. Snape's miniscule writing covered the entire scroll making the bright red ink completely dwarf the messy black writing that the essay had originally been written in. Her gaze trailed up the parchment to the name etched at the top right corner. Neville Longbottom.

_Oh dear..._

"Leaving?" Snape inquired.

"Yes. I've already cleared everything with the Headmaster." She insisted quickly. "I'm going first to meet with the Ministry and then the first stage of my plan will begin."

"_Stage_?" The way Snape looked at her in mockery made her cheeks flush with wounded pride.

"Well...there's only one stage at the moment..."

Snape shook his head and muttered something that sounded distinctly like: "Gryffindors..."

"Don't you take that tone of voice with me, mister!" She reprimanded speaking to her aged professor as if he were no more than a babe. "There may only be one stage right now, but rest assured...I'll...think of _something_."

"Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the world's Champion," He scoffed sarcastically.

Hermione let out an overly exaggerated growl of annoyance, kicking her heels against the mahogany panels of Snape's desk. She looked back down in time to see Snape turn his clock back into its original position.

"And you think _I_ have issues." She said with a laugh. "Don't think I didn't see that, sparky."

"Sparky?!" His face was incredulous.

Hermione laughed again, but this time it fell short of her usual boisterous personality. Severus Snape noticed this and cringed inwardly. He was uncomfortable with intimate conversations such as this and he knew he had problems interacting with other people. Digging himself into a deeper hole was not what he wanted to do here, but against his will he opened his mouth to speak.

"Is there something...bothering you?" Even to his own ears the question seemed thin and less heartfelt than he knew it should.

Hermione smiled softly, "Just some guy troubles. Nothing a Gryffindor Prefect such as myself can't handle."

Snape snorted in contempt but even though Hermione could sense her stodgy professor's discomfort she perceived a certain degree of concern in his eyes. Concern..._for her_? Severus Snape certainly was a complex man and Hermione knew she had barely begun to scratch the surface of said complexities. It would most definitely take some puzzling out. Hermione found herself looking forward to it.

"Look on the bright side, Hermione. If the world ends...it won't matter much, now will it?"

R & R!

Sorry it took so long, but I had work. I hope you like it! Off for a bubble bath give me some nice juicy reviews to look forward to.

Kiss This


	14. Avoidance and Regret?

Title: An Inevitable Fate  
  
Chapter Fourteen: Avoidance and Regret?  
  
Author: KissThis -- Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.  
  
Pairing: On rocky ground...  
  
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts. -- Disclaimer: Do I own Harry Potter? *shakes her broken Magic 8 Ball* **rattling noise** ***tips it upside-down to read what the fortune dice says*** "Ask again later."  
  
--  
  
A/N: I know that the end of the last chapter seemed to have no tie-in with the plot but I REALLY wanted to elaborate on Snape and his relationship with Hermione. I love Sevvy...he's just misunderstood. But there's just something about saving each other's lives that really brings people together.  
  
A/N2: I had some reviews of last chapter saying that it was a bit confusing. A fact which I will try to rectify, if not in this chapter, than in others.  
  
A/N3: Special Thanks: To Evangeline1! You've won the Favorite Review award for chapter thirteen!  
  
P.S. Woah! I just read your author's profile and all I can say is "creepy". I had to memorize that poem by Robert Frost and it's also one of my favorites.  
  
--  
  
Draco slammed open the Potion's room door and sidestepped inside carrying his heavy pewter cauldron in both arms. Hermione heard the loud bang over her own vociferous laughter. Her heads spun quickly around making her hair fan out behind her and then float to a stop over one eye. Her face fell and her laughter died.  
  
Snape looked from Hermione to Draco and then to the students in the hallway who were making a beeline for the classroom. Hermione felt her professor's shields go down without even turning. She knew instinctively the moment that he adopted the hunching of his shoulders that gave him a unapproachable look and when she did turn around it was just in time to see him twist his thin lips into the scowl that many suspected never left his face.  
  
Hermione promptly slid off the edge of the desk and gathered her book bag and cloak off of the chair from which she had earlier discarded them upon. She gave her professor a tight-lipped smile, "Thank you for speaking with me, Professor. I've just gotten the loveliest idea."  
  
Snape stood up and nodded, "See you in a few days Miss Granger. Stay safe." he added in an undertone.  
  
Hermione nodded quickly and turned away from Snape. Keeping her eyes to the ground she walked quickly past Draco, who had opened his mouth to speak but was unable to do so before Hermione had disappeared around the corner. Draco slowly shuffled over to his desk and dropped his cauldron upon it all the while darting confused looks to the last place where he had seen Hermione.  
  
"Professor?" He voiced in perplexity.  
  
Snape sat back down in his seat. With a short sigh he set about resuming the task that had absorbed him so utterly before a young woman had completely and effortlessly drawn him from his sheltered and consistent routine. Clearing his throat harshly he addressed the Slytherin in a disinterested tone, "You'll be working alone today, Mister Malfoy."  
  
Hermione cursed at herself. She shouldn't have dawdled so long. Forcibly pushing Draco's face from her mind she struggled to keep herself focused on where she was going. Though she didn't notice it, Hermione was so focused on her destination that she quite forgot the journey. Students actually had to leap out of the way to keep from being trampled beneath her obsessively polished Mary Janes.  
  
Hermoine walked on instinct. Robotic-like she jogged up staircases and ducked around corners as if running on mechanic reflex. She had just reached the main hall with a hand outstretched, reaching for the door, when the bell for class rang. It echoed loudly in the empty entrance hall -- enough so, to make her eardrums pound.  
  
With each piercing chime Draco's face become more prominent in her mind.  
  
The ground vibrated under her feet with the sound and traveled up her knees. They turned weak and wobbly with the strength of strawberry jello. Hermione felt herself falling and barely managed to grab a hold of the doorknob thus preventing an almost surely painful encounter between her knees and the hard, stone floor. She looked down at her hand that was slowly blurring and fading before her eyes. Warm orbs of moisture fell from those hazy eyes and splashed against her forearm. The sleeve of her customary black robe had slid down to her elbow leaving the tiny tears to fall upon creamy, bare skin.  
  
I feel like such a bad person... Hermione thought to herself.  
  
She had taken the coward's way out. She had left before he had even awoken, without even pausing to think. She hadn't even considered waiting to talk with him about it. She had just run away. But maybe she had done so out of concern - concern for their friendship. She certainly hadn't left hoping that in doing so she would cause him pain. No, that was the last thing she had wanted to do...and yet it had happened anyway.  
  
"I slept with Draco..." she whispered to herself. As if in sync with her emotions, an exceptionally large tear fell from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek coming to a stop just beneath her chin. Sadness welled up inside of her and she was hard-pressed to choke down the sob that was trying to free itself from the confines of her throat. Tear-stained lips quivered and the crystalline bead fell from her chin and disappeared upon the voluminous folds of her robes.  
  
Nothing will ever be the same...  
  
Her hand twisted slightly and the door was flung open. A wild wind swept into the entrance hall and disrupted everything it laid its icy claws upon. Hermione stood fast looking to a casual observer as if she didn't even feel the torrents of wind that twisted her chestnut curls into tangled knots above her head. Nor did she feel it pulling so tightly at her clothes that the buttons on her robe were strained to popping. With her tear-stained face to the gathering storm she walked out onto the grounds to meet Professor Hooch. Behind her the large wooden door of the castle banged helplessly open again.  
  
Hermione parted with Tonks and Moody feeling much better than she had at the start of her day. Stepping out into the hallway she pocketed her wand. Sweat still trickled down her face and when she swiped the back of her palm across her forehead she felt the wisps of hair that had frizzed about her head during training. Compulsively, she matted down her hair and ran her fingers through it attempting to restore some semblance of order.  
  
With her body radiating enough heat for two, Hermione vetoed the idea of pulling her robe back on and settled instead for draping it over her arm before starting down to dinner.  
  
When she stepped off the stairs onto the second floor a door off to her right closed simultaneously making her look up. Professor McGonagall had just exited her classroom and was heading towards the descending staircase -- most likely on her way to dinner as well. McGonagall was the last professor she needed to talk to and since the opportunity had presented itself Hermione picked up her pace and caught up to the older woman at the top of the staircase.  
  
"Professor!" She called out just before she skidded to a stop next to her.  
  
McGonagall gave a small smile and started slowly down the stairs. The incident during Hermione's fifth year had left her favorite professor a little weaker and a little older.  
  
"Miss Granger," she said in the raspy yet confident voice Hermione had come to associate as unique only to her. "Come to escort me down to dinner?"  
  
"Of course Professor," Hermione replied smoothly over the wind howling against the window, "I was also hoping to talk with you in private."  
  
McGonagall nodded slowly, "Leaving already, hmm?" She asked shrewdly.  
  
Hermione had to blink back her surprise and almost dropped the supporting hand she had placed beneath her teacher's elbow. "How-?"  
  
McGonagall scoffed, "It's in your eyes, dear. I knew from the beginning that you would leave," she sighed. "I just hoped it wouldn't have been so soon."  
  
"Time is short, Professor."  
  
"Ah, yes! But it's what you do with the time that is given to you that makes all the difference, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, "But that's exactly why I have to go. Wars aren't won by sitting around on your backside."  
  
They reached the bottom of the staircase and Hermione released her helping hand. McGonagall turned to her and stared down at her with wizened eyes. "No, you're quite right." The corners of her lips twitched into a faint smile. "They're won by people like you..."  
  
Hermione turned a delicate shade of pink to which she was very much entitled. McGonagall wasn't known for throwing out words of praise at just anyone.  
  
"T-thank you, professor."  
  
McGonagall nodded curtly and started towards the Great Hall doors. Suddenly remembering the reason she had caught up with her professor, Hermione jumped forward and stopped her with a hand on her arm.  
  
"Professor. I was hoping that I could get my homework in advance...f- for the days I'll be missing."  
  
McGonagall's brow furrowed. "You're not leaving tomorrow, are you?"  
  
"Tonight, actually."  
  
"Nonsense, Hermione." McGonagall clicked her tongue in disapproval. "You shouldn't be going out in weather like this." As if to accentuate the witch's argument a particularly loud bang of thunder followed her statement filling the empty entrance chamber with booming vibrations. "At least wait until the morning -- everything will be clearer then."  
  
Hermione shook her head. Her nose furrowed in mild distaste as her sweat-streaked ponytail grazed the side of her face.  
  
"The weather can't be helped, Professor. I really think things should be started as soon as possible."  
  
"Hmmm..." McGonagall's frown deepened, "Are you really set on doing this tonight?"  
  
Hermione nodded assuredly, "Everything's set."  
  
McGonagall's shoulders seemed to sag with extra fatigue and she gave a resigned sort of sigh. "I see nothing that can stop you."  
  
Hermione smiled softly and opened the door to the Great Hall. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
Hermione held the door open long enough for McGonagall to walk through and then closed it behind her as she followed her professor into the chattering Hall.  
  
"I trust you will have an escort?" Her voice was quiet enough so that it didn't attract the attention of the dining students, but loud enough to be heard over the din.  
  
"I'll be in safe hands, if that's what you were wondering."  
  
"You shouldn't assume things, Miss Granger." McGonagall said haughtily. Hermione laughed for she could see the embarrassment hidden behind her professor's spectacles at being caught.  
  
"Anyway, I'm leaving at midnight." Hermione said changing the conversation.  
  
"I'll make sure to send your homework up before then. You may sit down now, Miss Granger," she told her stoutly.  
  
Hermione chuckled and nodded before peeling off in the direction of the Gryffindor table, "Enjoy your dinner, Professor."  
  
Hermione hurried over to where her friends were sitting and took the seat next to Harry they had saved for her. She gave them both a quick grin before reaching for bowl of broccoli.  
  
Harry made a disgusted face and ducked away from Hermione and her outstretched arm. "Oy! 'Mione you stink!"  
  
This earned him a smack upside the head.  
  
Ron laughed and took another bite of his roll, "Yeh, 'ione. Wa werned oo 'n oceans." He asked through a mouthful of food.  
  
It was Hermione's turn to look disgusted and she could only hope that he hadn't sprayed little bits of bread into her hair.  
  
"Honestly, Ron. How many times -- don't talk with your mouth full!"  
  
"She has a point, mate." Harry added with a small grimace of his own. "I definitely do not need to see your pre-digested food while I'm eating."  
  
Hermione set the vegetables back down with a slight shake of her head, "I couldn't even understand what he asked me."  
  
Harry grabbed a pork chop off the platter and set it down on his golden plate. "Believe it or not, that's usually the case."  
  
"I'M SITTING RIGHT HERE!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
Both Hermione and Harry burst into loud laughter.  
  
"I think he asked why you weren't in Potions," Harry supplied between chuckles.  
  
Hermione took a drink of juice to sooth her parched throat and wiped at her mouth. Still giggling slightly she explained, "I know. I had things that needed to be taken care of before I left tonight."  
  
"Leaving?"  
  
"Where?!"  
  
The looks on their face were laughable to say the least. "I'm going to meet with the Ministry and then I'm off to France."  
  
"What's in France?" Ron stuck out his tongue.  
  
Hermione's nose scrunched up in thought. She didn't want to give away too much of her plan before she knew if it would even work. "A friend."  
  
R & R!  
  
Ok.I know...only 10 pages long. Sorry! I just thought it was a good stopping point. I'll try to update as soon as possible, but school starts next Monday and I have someone's sweet 16 tomorrow.  
  
If someone can guess who the friend in France is I'll give you.......a cookie!  
  
KissThis 


	15. An Argument Over Umbrellas

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Fifteen: An Argument Over Umbrellas

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: On rocky ground...

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: This crap-ass shit is most definitely not written by J.K. Rowling -- so, _obviously_, **I** do not own Harry Potter.

--

A/N: Howdy y'all! We're really getting into the plot now, aren't we? This is gonna be a REALLY long chapter because there are so many things I want to put in here. Strap yourself in, it's gonna be a _long_ ride.

A/N2: Draco/Hermione lovers -- _your_ ride is gonna be a bit bumpy. You've been warned.

--

Cookies For: curbsideprophet

Evangeline1

Hermione walked into her bedroom leaving the door to the bathroom open in her wake. Feathery clouds of steam rolled out of the tiled expanse only to be quickly overcome by the icy state of the room. Shivering at the sudden temperature change, Hermione quickly went to her open window. After a moment of fruitless struggling to close the window with one hand she gave up and released her hold on the towel she had wrapped about her torso. With both hands now free and unencumbered she gripped the ledge of her window and pulled it down. She slid the lock into place and let out a satisfied breath.

But she was still chilly, and for good reason. Resting her fisted hands upon her bare hips she glared down at the white towel that had pooled about her feet. She gave a low growl and hooking her toes beneath the lumped terrycloth flung the offending object across the room.

Hermione smiled and turned to her bed. She dressed quickly for her bedside clock was already blinking 11:20. After a bit of wiggling she pulled dark denim jeans up over her hips and plopped down on her bed to put on her socks. In order to pull on her ankle boots, Hermione had to roll up the cuffs of her jeans. By the time she had zipped up her dark brown, leather boots and set her jeans back to rights it was 11:27.

Bent over her vanity she performed a simple drying spell on her hair. She figured by the way the rain was even now beginning to patter against the glass of her window, that any make-up she tried to put on wouldn't last long once she got outside. A quick spray of perfume across her throat and she was done. Already the fruity smell of Victoria Secret's _Pear Glacé _filled her senses.

Hermione turned back to her bed and grabbed her shirt off the gold comforter. She slid into it quickly moved her fingers quickly across the fastenings leaving the top and bottom two buttons undone. With one hand she pulled her chocolate hair free from beneath the collar of her blouse. With the other she zipped up her last suitcase. She hesitated a moment before grabbing her black slicker off its hook and putting it on. A deft flick of her wand and her luggage was shrunken to tiny miniatures and dropped into the pocket of her jacket.

She gave one last cursory glance around her room and moved to the door. Raising her wand she parted her lips and whispered "_Nox_" plunging the room into darkness. Light illuminated a sliver of the room for a fraction of a second but then she closed the door behind her and the shadows settled in once again. The only luminosity in the empty gloom was the blazing red numbers of Hermione's clock.

11:34

Hermione moved as quietly as she could through Gryffindors common room. A goal not so well carried out as she kept continually banging into the few things that made _the_ most noise. Thankfully, she made it to the dorm staircase without too many incidents and when none of the Tower's occupants made any sound of rousing Hermione allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief.

Concentrating all her thought on stealth, Hermione started up the stairs. Her hand slid along the banister as she followed the corkscrew pathway right past the girls' dormitories. A few more steps up she reached her destination. Placing a pale hand upon the doorknob she turned it _very_ gradually and when it could turn no farther she pushed it open.

Muffled snores rose up from several of the beds as the occupants buried themselves in their pillows. She crept past all of them, pausing only to close the bed curtains on one. After what seemed like an unnecessarily long time she reached the last bed on the right. She slipped in through the slit between curtains and sat down beside the bed's sleeping resident. 

Leaning over so she could see better, Hermione raised her hand and clapped it over the person's mouth. Wide, bottle green eyes snapped open in surprise. Her free hand lifted up slowly and pressed a finger to her lips signifying silence. Lowering both hands she slid down the linen sheets until she was lying beside him.

"Hey Harry. I have to talk about something."

That was how it went. Ever since their third year whenever Harry or Hermione had a problem or needed to talk they would meet by twilight. They'd sit or lie together, in either bed, and talk for hours on end finding the following morning to seem all the brighter for it. 

As far as Hermione knew no one else was aware of their late night rendezvous -- in fact she preferred it that way. Not because their talks were anything secret that needed to be kept hidden, but because it was just..._good_ to have someone to confide in -- whenever she needed to -- without worrying what other people thought.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered into the dark. They always kept their voices low so as not to wake the others. He fumbled for the pair of glasses he kept on his night table. Without his contacts he was _terribly_ blind. He propped himself up on his elbow. "I thought you were leaving tonight."

Hermione sighed and stole his pillow. Bunching it up she wrapped her arms about it and laid down her head. Her eyes closed as the cushy material sunk slightly. "I am."

"Hermione," Harry said slowly; using the reprimanding tone she'd heard McGonagall use on procrastinating students. "Why are you _here_, then?"

She pouted. Rather than answering she turned her face into the pillow and burrowed into it -- avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Hermione..."

Hermione lifted her face from the white depths of Harry's pillow to look at him, "It's just been a **very** confusing day. I mean I thought I had this great plan, but then **Today** happened and..." She sighed in frustration. "Oh, Harry! I'm not sure of anything anymore."

Harry settled his chin in his palm. His quiet chuckle was subdued slightly by the hand holding up his jaw. "Today couldn't have been so bad to make you doubt _everything_."

Hermione shook her head forcefully. The pillow rustled faintly. She gave him a deadpan-serious look and spoke in slow tones to make sure he caught everything. "You. Have. _No_. Idea."

With a groan she flopped onto her back. She gazed at the gauzy top of his canopy for a moment before throwing an arm dramatically over her eyes. Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked.

Another long sigh.

"Not really."

"Alright."

Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and stifled a yawn. "Hermione--"

Hermione rolled back over, "I want you to come with me."

His open-mouthed look of shock told Hermione that that was the last thing Harry had expected her to say.

"What?!" He sputtered.

She sat up. "Please, Harry! I'd feel a lot better about this whole thing if you were with me."

"I don't know--" Harry shook his head slightly.

"Please...?"

"But class--"

"Please...?"

" 'Mione--"

"Please...?"

"You can't--"

"Please?"

"Just--"

"Please?"

" 'Mione!"

"Please?"

"Stop it!"

"_Please_?"

"Hermione!"

"Please, please, please, please, please, please?" She begged. She looked up at him with hopeful, puppy-dog eyes. "PUH-LEASE?"

"Ssh!" He said laughing. "Alright, alright, ALRIGHT! I'll go."

"I love you!" Hermione gushed hugging him. "Meet me down at the carriages when you're done packing."

Harry nodded and they both stood up. Hermione giggled behind her hand and hurried to the door. "Try not to be too late." She whispered.

Harry laughed to himself and stood up. The clock sitting on the floor beside his bed flickered once and changed.

11:53

Hermione quickly tip-tapped down the grand staircase sending uneasy glances to the rain-covered windows lining the walls. A sound nearby made her stop in curiosity. Her eyes darted around the open atrium trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. When they failed to find anything she gave an indiscernible shrug of her shoulders and started back down the stairs. A shadow detached itself from the bottom of the stairs and moved in front of her. She wasn't even aware of its presence until it spoke to her while she was in mid-step.

"Hermione."

With a yelp of surprise she lost her footing and slid on her bum down the last few stairs. Having one leg still propped up on the stairs and the hard stone floor against her back Hermione looked up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"We need to talk." 

"I can't do this right now, Draco." She murmured. She didn't look him in the eyes, but focused instead on getting up from her rather disadvantageous position.

"Hermione." He said more forcefully this time. "You've avoided me all day. We need to talk about last night..."

Hermione snorted, "Yeah, let's talk about it as much as humanly possible." She retorted under her breath.

"Hermione!" 

Hermione had been willing to just let his persistence slide, expecting him to stop when she told him to. But when he had opened his mouth again...she'd snapped.

It was not turning out to be a very good day...

"Damnit, Draco!" She exclaimed. Draco jumped -- caught off-guard.

"You weren't with _me_ last night -- you didn't have sex with _me_."

"Yes, I--"

"No, Draco. That wasn't me! You had sex with this _thing_ inside of me." She spoke in a tone laced with disgust. "I _can't_ get rid of it -- it's a part of me."

Draco knew what she was talking about now. A tiny part of his brain had stirred at her words and called forth the memory of the night before. He saw himself. He saw her. And he saw the brilliant ocher glow that filled the room.

"A part of **me **will always be wondering if that's what you really want; not me. Always be wondering if you're thinking of this thing that's inside of me whenever we're together. And **that** is why I can't be with you. I can't go through a relationship always _wondering_."

"Hermione..."

"Can you honestly tell me I'm wrong?"

Draco's face became pained. Hermione's heart ached, but she was far too angry with herself to let the tears come. She knew that she was doing the right thing. She couldn't let Hope feed off of someone she cared for. But it still hurt to know that she was killing any possible chance of what might have been. Her voice was soft now.

"That's not fair to me. And it's not fair to you. If this goes on...we may not be able to remain friends. So I'm stopping this now."

She brushed past him and headed for the door. "I'm going to leave for a while...and I'm going to _forget_."

"Why are you running away?!" Draco shouted. He whirled around in disbelief.

"I am **not** running!" She shouted back. "If you'll excuse me -- I have an army to start."

She pulled open the door and let the wind fling it back against the wall. Holding her jacket tighter around her body she stepped out into the storm. Draco quickly followed after. Opening the umbrella he had brought with him he ran after her.

"Hermione! Wait!" He bellowed over the wind. She whirled around.

"I don't believe it!" She yelled incredulously.

Draco stopped short. "What?"

"You can't stand in the rain without an umbrella?" 

"Yes, Hermione, I learned when I was young that if I did that, I'd get wet." He retorted.

Hermione angrily pushed back the sopping hair from her face. 

"And I learned when _I_ was young if I get wet, I'll dry off." She shouted. The wind roared almost toppling Hermione off her feet, but still she stomped forward and went on. "I learned not to be afraid by water falling from the sky. I learned that, when I was little, the things that frightened me might not be so frightening after all -- that possibly, the only reason I was frightened was _because_ I was young."

Hermione started to head back to the castle, but Draco, who had had enough of being yelled at, wasn't finished with her yet. She wasn't the only one affected by what had happened last night. And though their current conversation seemed to have no connection to their problem Draco felt as if it held some sort of relevance in the grand scheme of things. 

But more importantly -- Malfoys didn't appreciate being yelled at.

"You're wearing a raincoat!"

Hermione turned around "What?"

"It was raining when you left your room. You don't have an umbrella 'cause you don't _have_ an umbrella."

She was frozen to the spot. Draco's tirade continued.

"Only you won't admit it 'cause you're Miss 'I meant to do that. I'm free and open an unafraid of rain. I'm **wet** 'cause that's how I meant it to be. I'm the Champion of the world, though my life's falling apart because of it. I slept with one of best friends last night -- but that's how I meant it to be.'"

Hermione couldn't tell she was crying until she tasted the salt upon her lips. Water beat down on her and chilled her to her very core. Her amber eyes fluctuated with energy bringing light to the weather-darkened grounds.

"God forbid you should admit you're not a tough guy." Draco's eased his tone, "God forbid you should admit...that you _don't **have**_ an umbrella."

"I'm going inside until the rain stops." She said quietly -- her voice hitching -- and stepped back inside the looming Hogwarts castle. Draco was right behind her.

"I was offering you the umbrella..." He said earnestly. He felt chagrined for yelling at her so.

"No, thank you."

Draco closed his umbrella, "Are you crying?" He felt something drop to the pit of his stomach. Had he made her cry?

"What's going on you two?"

"Harry!" Hermione immediately smiled.

"Hey, 'Mione. Draco." Harry said upon reaching them.

Hermione's hand went to her jacket pocket and she toyed nervously with her shrunken baggage. "Ready to go?"

Harry nodded in response, but he was looking quizzically at Draco. "What are _you_ doing here, Draco?" Harry gave Hermione a sideways glance, "Are...you coming too?"

"No." Hermione answered quickly. "He was just patrolling the halls and offered me his umbrella."

"Oh," Harry breathed.

Draco nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to be glued to the floor.

"Well, it's good to know you're looking out for Hermione." Harry chuckled, "But it seems you were a bit late."

Hermione turned pink as Harry reached out to pull a wet lock of hair from her face. Beads of water rolled down the darkened strands and dripped onto the floor.

"We'll be alright though." He finished. Harry reached into his pocket then and after a moment of fishing around he pulled out a miniature umbrella. After he enlarged it he opened it up and swung it over his shoulder.

"That's bad luck you know," Draco said finally raising his eyes.

Harry was not as pessimistic. Laughing slightly he shook his head. Several disheveled raven locks fell over his eyes concealing the trademark scar. "Then it's a good thing I'm not superstitious. See you in a few days, Draco."

Harry threw his free arm over Hermione's shoulder and started towards the door.

"We'll talk when you get back, 'Mione?" Draco asked.

Hermione looked back over her shoulder. A tear fell down her face. "No." She said in a hushed tone, "There's nothing to talk about."

And when she was gone Draco flung his umbrella at the door and stormed off into the castle.

Every second of his angry, winding walk was spent thinking of the one thing he least wanted to. As he stomped past a disfigured statue a sudden thought came to him and he took a step backwards the better to study the stone architecture. His wand appeared from the folds of his sleeve he tapped the hunched back of the statue and watched it come to life and jump out of the way.

He pulled his robes close to his body to keep them from catching on anything and jumped into the passage that had previously been hidden behind the statue.

"_Lumos_" With thoughts still filled with angry memories the spell had been spoken a bit too forcefully and the result was a blinding flash of light from the tip of his wand. Draco turned his head and waited until the magical bubble of light dimmed itself before starting on down the passageway.

Holding his wand outstretched it created eerie shadows along the walls but served its purpose in guiding him through the tunnel. The statue of the hump-backed witch slid shut behind him.

Draco hiccuped loudly and wobbled on his stool. Sure -- Butterbeers were barely alcoholic, but if you downed enough of them it tended to make you a bit tipsy. The patrons of the Three Broomsticks studied the loud student with as much subtlety as their _own_ drunkenness could allow, and then went back to their own frothing bottles of Butterbeer. Madame Rosmerta, owner of the Broomsticks, walked over to the slouched boy and set down the glass she had been drying.

"Maybe you should cut back on the Butterbeers, hunny."

Draco looked up, more sharply than was probably good for him, and was rewarded with a sharp pain in his head/

"Oh! Bloody _hell_!" He cursed loudly.

Rosmerta clucked disapprovingly. "Well, dear, are you all right? You should really watch yah'self."

Draco continued to clutch at his pained head but found himself able to multi-task long enough to glower up at the woman who was leaning easily against the opposite side of the bar counter. He snorted. "Thanks for the _glittering_ advice. I'll log **that** away. Now, how many times -- give me 'nother!"

Rosmerta gave a huff of annoyance at being referred to in such a demeaning manner. "I've been kind enough to allow you to stay here and not tell Dumbledore of your being in Hogsmeade when you're not s'pose to. But that makes me responsible for you and I'm cutting you off."

"Damn responsibility!" Draco barked banging his empty mug on the counter. His drunken face went lax and he gave her a lopsided smirk that wasn't up to his usual standards. "I feel awful bad about tying ya down with 'sponsibility 'n all. So...I'm cutting ya loose!" He slurred.

Clinking rose from his pocket as he pulled forth a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the bar. "Go 'n buy yerself sometin' pretty. I'll just help myself here."

Standing up jerkily on the rungs of his stool he leaned over the counter and flailed his arm about trying to locate the taps.

"Draco?"

Draco looked up to see a familiar redhead stepping out of the back room. Couldn't be sure though -- his vision was rather fuzzy and certain details completely eluded him.

Ginny walked slowly into the tavern. Her warm brown eyes remained locked on the scene that her voice had frozen as effectively as ice. Draco's legs were tangled in his barstool and, though Rosmerta was trying to shove him off, his fingers clung desperately to the far edge of the bar top.

"Ah!" Rosmerta was relieved that she was finally able to save her Butterbeer from tampering. "There's your bonnie lass! Now...get out of my tavern!"

Ginny switched her weight nervously between her feet. She was at Hogsmeade -- rather illegally -- and Draco Malfoy was sitting at the bar looking as if he couldn't form a coherent thought, much less get himself back to Hogwarts correctly.

"Come on, Draco. I'll help you back to your room."

I had crap-ass excuses for reviews last time! Let's try and step it up a notch shall we?

Review!

KissThis


	16. MIA

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Sixteen: MIA

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Going their separate ways?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Plot and nothing else -- sad story I know...been in therapy since I was three...

--

A/N: 

Harry pressed close to Hermione's rain-soaked body trying as best he could to keep them both beneath the shielding arch of his umbrella. He glanced down at Hermione as she snuggled closer to the curve of his shoulder -- seeking warmth. Feeling her shiver he tightened the grip of his arm about her shoulder. The wind picked up noticeably and gave them a strong push down the last few feet of the path. The dark blue carriage they were to be traveling in was, at first, unnoticeably against the stormy background.

Harry nudged Hermione to get her attention. She looked up at his taller frame; blinking back water from her amber eyes.

"Hold the umbrella."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

Harry tried again, "HOLD. THE. UMBRELLA!" The winds roared again drowning out his shouted words.

Wet strands of hair slapped against both of their faces giving each a series of stinging pains. Hermione pointed to her ear and shook her head -- miming that she couldn't hear him. Her hair shook back and forth and plastered itself annoyingly against her face.

He pulled his arm from her shoulder and used it to gesture emphatically at the umbrella. Consequently, Hermione got significantly wetter, but if she noticed it was anyone's guess. Hermione nodded and took the umbrella in her own hands. 

As if fearing the wind might seize Hermione's small frame and blow her away like nothing more than a withered leaf, Harry grabbed Hermione's free hand in a firm grip. The puddles beneath their feet seem to rise as the rain beat mercilessly down on the soaked travelers. As Hermione struggled to keep the umbrella over their heads while Harry pulled her along with him, Harry grabbed the door handle and yanked them both up.

The umbrella clattered to the muddy stone pavement. A moment later the thestral-led carriage started forward. The squeaking of metal-on-metal was drowned out by the wind and the carriage door seemed to swing "silently" back and forth as it hung open on its hinges.

-[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]-

"I'll teach her to ignored me..." Draco mumbled to himself nursing a near-empty bottle of Butterbeer. "Teach her...f-for for making me feel...this way..."

Ginny looked over at him in surprise, "What was that Draco?" 

Draco attempted to look over at the younger girl, but found that his eyes didn't feel like focusing on anything at the moment so he didn't bother trying again.

"Mm, nothin'..." He re-affirmed his grip on the banister. Funny...the stairs to his dorm didn't usually seem this long. When the pair finally reached the room he stuttered out the password, not really noting if she had heard it or not, and then stumbled inside.

"Can't believeshe took..._Potter_..." Draco growled at the brown bottle. He downed the rest of his drink and coughed violently as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. "Stupid git..." 

Ginny took a nervous step into the darkened room. She looked pointedly around at the lack of light, but Draco made no move to rectify it. "Draco?" He kept going on and on mumbling about random things that seemed to make no sense to her.

_He's **really** drunk..._

Draco's icy, blue-gray eyes were unable to completely focus on her (most likely due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed), but he seemed satisfied enough that they stared out at a point just beside her left ear. His pale lips twisted into a lax grin that sent an odd chill down Ginny's back. 

The door closed quietly.

-[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]-

The pudgy face of the Minister of Magic nodded and disappeared from the crackling green flames of Albus Dumbledore's fireplace. Dumbledore's troubled eyes went first to the sunlight streaming in his window and then to the clock hanging overhead.

8:00.

-[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]-

The Hogwarts students were quite surprised when obsessively composed Headmaster barged into their first period classrooms without so much as an apology or excuse to be had. His robes were rumpled and he looked as if he'd fallen asleep in them and didn't change them upon waking. After two years of war the students had learned to read the signs. Something bad had or _was_ happening.

Snape, too, looked up in surprise to find his door slammed rudely open by the docile Headmaster. Shuffling his way quickly between desks, Dumbledore grabbed the professor on his way and pulled him behind the desk.

"What is it Albus?" Snape's usually gruff tone was laced with steel. He was braced for the news that Voldemort was beginning his attack. The news he received was _far_ worse.

"The Ministry says they never arrived there."

Shock filled his throat making his words hoarse. "Who?"

"Hermione and Harry -- they never made it to the Ministry!" Dumbledore shook his aged head as if he too couldn't believe it.

The room was silent.

-[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]- -[+]-

Sorry so short, but it's been ages so I wanted to update ASAP but I am totally rushed!! Anyway -- gotta jet!

****

P.S. If anyway is good at computer graphics -- like realistically coloring drawings PLEASE CONTACT ME! (**thetasteofstrawberries@hotmail.com****) I would love you so much if you could help me out!!**

P.P.S. If you like Sailor Moon, then check out my new story = Crystalline Revelations Part I: The Corruption of Galaxia

Ja!

KissThis


	17. Taken

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Seventeen: Taken

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Going their separate ways?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Still looking for that lucky penny to make a wish on...

--

A/N: Nothing in particular that needs to be said...

[earlier]

            Empty eyes stared unblinkingly at them out of the darkness. A tendril of icy blue hair floated into the light and Hermione ceased to be afraid.

            "Postvorta." She breathed in relief.

            The water sprite leaned out of the shadows and Harry too relaxed.

            "I'm sorry if I scared you, Hermione, and I hope I did not hurt you."

            "It's quite all right." Hermione insisted.

            Postvorta shook her head and her sinewy arms floated across her chest. "No. You are in danger, Sovereign."

            "Danger?!" Harry's hand immediately went to his wand. Adrenaline pumped through Hermione's veins and the core of power inside her flared to life. It roared in her ears, but she seemed to hear everything else at the same time.

            "There is a deadly trap that awaits you at the Ministry -- we cannot stay here."

            Her voice remained the same, alluring and ethereal, and her eyes never lost their emptiness, but Hermione could _sense_ the nymph's anxiety and apprehension.

            "Take my hands."

            With complete trust Hermoine laid her hand in the nymph's and looked over at Harry. He grabbed her hand first and then hesitantly placed his hand in Postvorta's. The last thing Hermione heard was "...someone should have been with you..." before their palms touched and the world dropped away.

            Hermione screamed as she was dragged through a roaring whirlwind of cresting water. Harry's hand slipped from hers and her eyes blurred until all she saw was the blinding blue of the vortex through which she was being pulled. Only Postvorta's grip kept her from spinning off. Hermione's whole arm was tingling, but even then it felt like it was almost to be ripped from its socket.

            And then her soaked body was being whipped with warm air just shortly before her body connected with rocky ground. Her bodily functions had shut down and her legs wouldn't even support her as she landed and she fell to her hands and knees.

            Hermione coughed violently. Kneeling on the ground, dry heaves racked her body. Harry was going through a similar reaction beside her, but he had managed to stay standing after the rude ejection. Postvorta hovered passively at Hermione's side waiting for the shock to pass through the young woman's body.

            Hermione's mind reeled. The rain had suddenly disappeared and her pants of breath were no longer visible; the icy night was now warm and calm. The shudders stopped and she got slowly up onto uneasy feet. She wobbled slightly and wiped her dry lips with the back of her hand.

            "Are you ready, Sovereign?"

            Hermione opened her mouth to reply but snapped it shut again as her stomach rolled. Harry took up the open question.

            "What the hell was that?!" He was hunched slightly and his arms were crossed over his stomach to put pressure on his own churning insides.

            "It's the water tunnel my species uses to travel through space and matter."

            Postvorta placed a watery hand at the base of Hermione's neck. It was a cold, cooling touch that chilled the perspiration and rain on her skin and soothed the pounding in her temples. The nymph's power tingled through her body and Hermione's stomach quieted.

            "We could've apparated!" Harry argued.

            Hermione raised a hand to silence him, "She got us here...wherever we are."

            "We are in France." Postvorta supplied stiffly.

            "Well, we're certainly not in Kansas anymore..." Harry muttered.

            Hermione gave Harry a reprimanding look and nodded at Postvorta. "We're in France, and that's all that matters."

            Harry threw his hands up in defeat. Hermione gave a small laugh.

            "Besides," Postvorta added. "You haven't _finished_ your apparation training."

            "So?" Harry retorted sullenly.

            "It would have taken too long. My way was faster." She stated confidently.

            Hermione slapped a hand over Harry's mouth before he could say anything that would most likely get his ass kicked, and smiled. "Just warn us next time."

            Postvorta's arms floated up to her face, and Hermione interpreted that as a smile -- for the nymph's face remained as empty as ever.

            "Yes, Sovereign."

            "Now let's find Beauxbatons." Hermione stopped shivering, "It's a lot warmer her than in Scotland -- wherever here is."

            "The Beauxbatons' Academy of Magic is located in northwestern France. Because of its enclosed position -- this part of France is exceptionally prone to long spells of fair weather, even in the off season." Postvorta explained, gesturing ahead.

            Harry nodded slowly, "They did look _awfully_ cold when they came for the Triwizard."

            Hermione bobbed her head in agreement. Feeling the warm night air seeping into her soaked clothing she shrugged off her slick coat and draped it over her arm m-- careful not to spill any of her shrunken luggage. She gave her legs a small shake and started off in the direction Postvorta had indicated -- up a hill. Harry motioned Postvorta to follow first and then fell into step behind the nymph. One-by-one they crested the great hill and looked down in wonder and envious awe at the lush valley in which Beauxbatons' Castle was nestled.

            La Vie Valley was every rich shade of green Hermione could imagine. A path, lined with tall grasses dotted with baby's breath, led down the gentle slope of the bowl-shaped valley and right up to the castle's front door. A lake, smaller than Hogwarts' -- but a clearer blue -- sat undisturbed to the left of the path. Two, great, sweeping willows were rooted deeply in its bank -- their sinewy branches dragging in the water; sectioning off a small lagoon. Watercress and reeds bordered the water's edge and trickled out into the brighter, more vivid, flowers in the valley.

            Color and flora defined La Vie Valley and the scent of their perfume hung heavily in the humid air. Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It filled her nose and overloaded her sense. Green spots danced beneath her eyelids. She opened her eyes and exhaled slowly. She couldn't wait to see it in the daylight.

            "Ready?" Harry's breath was warm against her cheek. She tilted her face up to meet his gaze. She smiled softly, "As ready as I can be."

            She started down the path, but Postvorta stopped her. "You are going as a human?"

            "What's wrong with being human? I was human _long_ before I was ever the Sovereign of Light." Hermione knew the nymph's words hadn't been intended to offend, but her voice came out sharp and cold.

            Postvorta stared blankly back -- to all appearances nonplussed about Hermione's tone. "The past has fallen -- live in the now...prepare for the future."

            "I will go as I am." Hermione said quietly.

            Postvorta shook her head; "It is _not_ wise. Awaken your power."

            "I will not." Hermione's voice was soft, but firm. "Beauxbatons is a proud school. We would receive a less than savory welcome if we barged into _their_ home appearing better than them. Making them feel inferior is no way to obtain their allegiance. No...we will go as we are."

            She started down the path with Harry at her side. Postvorta trailed eerily behind -- her watery eyes scanning the valley.

            As if noting the nymph's wariness, Hermione motioned her forward. "Your vigilance is admired, but you needn't bother, Postvorta. They're already aware of our presence. They knew we were here the moment we arrived."

            "You know these creatures better than I," Postvorta conceded indifferently.

            "If the time comes...I will reveal myself," Hermione told the nymph, "But not before."

            "Heads up," Harry nudged her with his elbow, "The welcoming committee's arrived."

            Hermione's eyes darted over the group that had gathered outside the castle's doors. Six people waited; two of them adults, the other four students. Hermione only recognized one. The massive form of Madam Maxime was a hard one to forget and her distinct silhouette in the moonlight was enough to identify her.

            Hermione stopped at, what she deemed, a respectable distance from the stone steps and gave a dignified curtsy -- hoping they would overlook her appearance of a drowned cat. The tall, spindly man murmured something in Madam Maxime's ear.
    
                   "Pourqoui le garcon n'avance pas? Qui est cette fille qui voyage avec des nymphes ?"

            "Madam Maxime," Hermione said reverently; rising. "Please forgive the intrusion -- I am Hermione Granger."

A/N: Another short one…but I'm doing my best!!

A/N Jan. 13, 2004: Corrected my poor French – thanks **American-Royalty**!

French: Why does the boy not step forward? Who is this girl that travels with nymphs?

Read and Review PWEZE!

KissThis


	18. Searching

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Eighteen: Searching

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Getting in trouble?

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Mirror, mirror, tell me true

Should J.K. give me my due?

No.

--

A/N: The going is kinda slow...sorry, but I now have FOUR stories going, Fate, Revelation, Stars II, and now Life. I shall do my best, though.

"What do you mean they didn't make it?" It was all Snape could do at the moment to repeat the Headmasters words in bewilderment.

"I just received word from Fudge." Dumbledore explained. "He's had round-the-clock surveillance going on at the Ministry, but they never even stepped onto the property."

The shock had settled in and now the gears were slowly beginning to turn in the Potion Master's analytical mind.

"There was a carriage waiting for her..."

Dumbledore sighed, "She **did** get on...and the carriage arrived at its destination -- but it was empty." He spoke in his normal soft tones, and though he wasn't shouting, he clearly _felt_ as stressed as Snape appeared. He also made no move to keep the conversation from the students.

Snape, however, felt differently.

As if suddenly aware of the students' presence, his mouth snapped shut like a steel trap, cutting off any words that might slip through his lips of their own accord. His head moved a fraction of an inch -- which one _might_ assume, was a nod -- and he motioned to the thick door leading to his adjoining office.

No matter how much the Headmaster's news had offset him, all the "proper" mannerisms and protocol that had been drilled into Snape's memory as a boy never left him and he stepped aside to allow the elder man to pass him. Once he was completely inside the room Severus swooped in after him, his black robes billowing; in a trademark Snape effect, and slammed the door shut with a bang.

The small band of students thrown haphazardly into a class, mixed from both second and third years, were deathly silent. Not even the banging door could rouse them from their sorrowful sense of crumbled hope.

Then, very slowly, a girl rose from the front row. She was small and thin, more so than one would think a third year should be, but then again the war had made them all a little leaner...more hardened. Stringy, brown-blonde hair fell in clumps over her bony shoulders while she gathered up her books and shoved them carelessly into her patched bag. She almost seemed _angry_.

A cherubic second year looked up at the older girl and blinked her big, soulful, brown eyes that gazed from behind large, circle-framed glasses.

"She's not missing...they just can't find her yet."

The older girl hoisted her now-filled bag onto her shoulder and in doing so pulled the hair form her face. She was wearing a scowl.

"Then she's as good as dead." The brunette-blond monotoned.

The cherub gasped and recoiled into her seat, "How can you say that. Jessica?!"

But Jessica was already stalking towards the door -- her scuffed, too small Mary Janes _click_ _clacking_ on the stone dungeon's floor. She made no move to answer the young girl's disbelieving prompt.

"She's our last hope -- the _Sovereign_! How can you give up on her so easily?!" The girl's voice had now raised to a shout, but the teachers did not surface from the office.

Jessica opened the door to leave, but something seemed to make her hesitate and she looked back over her shoulder, "I was a fool to believe in hope, Kali...for we are _all_ damned to die..."

Then she was gone -- an open doorway in her place.

Tiny tears of frustration pricked at the corners of the girl's - Kali's - eyes, "SHE WOULDN'T GIVE UP ON _YOU_!"

Slowly, but without hesitation the remaining students stood as well and began to repack their school things.

"When someone goes missing, Kal...they _don't_ get found." A second year boy said quietly.

They filed out of the room then, some casting troubled looks to the brunette who had collapsed into her seat; others keeping their eyes painfully locked on the door. No one said anything.

Kali's lips quivered and a lone chill raced down her spine while fighting back tears.

_She just has to be okay..._

Maxime's black, liquid-looking eyes swept over the young girl, apparently not listening to the continuous stream of whisperings the sallow man was uttering in her ear. She raised a jewel-bedecked hand and the man's voice instantly died away.

"Jean-Pierre." She boomed...and yet her voice was soft as velvet. Odd. "Go, fetch Miz Delacour...she may vant to see zis."

"Mais Madame--" The blonde boy protested.

"GO!"

The boy didn't dare object again, but his displeasure and annoyance were clearly evident as he vanished with a _POP!_ and a scowl.

He re-apparated again, after a moment, beside a slender woman a few years his senior. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist, and she had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth -- her veela inherited traits blatantly obvious. Upon seeing the woman once again Hermione was instantly remained of the derisive laugh she had given two years ago during Dumbledore's speech, making her bristle in defense of her Headmaster. She looked exactly the same.

"Hello again Fleur," Hermione said with a smile. "I had hoped you'd be here..."

The half-veela's delicate nose scrunched up in thought. "I am ze Profezor of Charms for ze castle."

Hermione nodded in understanding, "All the more convenient."

Fleur's hands rested idly on her hips clad in the pale blue robes of Beauxbatons. She seemed to notice Harry for the first time and smiled quickly to acknowledge his presence. " 'Arry."

Harry gave her back a lop-sided grin, "Fleur."

Though Fleur and Harry's first meeting had been icy, Fleur's opinion of Harry had grown exponentially since the second task of The Triwizard Tournament where Harry had, at the risk of his own score, waited, in concern, for her before rescuing both his _and_ her charge; her younger sister, Gabrielle.

"I received your letter, Herm'ne." Fleur told her. "Zo, I'm not entirely sure vat I can do to 'elp..."

"Profezor Delacour, vat iz going on?" Maxime interrupted stepping off the step. "Vat are zes people from 'Ogwarts doin' 'ere?"

Fleur's back unconsciously straightened defensively, and she stepped sideways slightly to better gesture at the young brunette standing unobtrusively on the pathway with her legs together and her arms at her sides -- effectively taking up as little space as possible.

"Zis is Herm'ne -- she is fulfilling ze _Zovereign Prophecy_. And she needz our 'elp."

Draco blinked rapidly as the harsh sunlight assailed his eyes. Already, the result of seven Butterbears was sending pounding waves through his skull. Groaning for a mixture of reasons, not the least of which being that he seemed to be lying on his dorm room floor. 

_What the hell happened last night?_

Drawing up his knees he slowly pushed himself to his feet staggering slightly so that he painfully crashed into his bedpost to "save" himself. Looking up at the mirror hung over his bed he took in his disheveled appearance and grimaced. He brushed the unruly strands of blonde from his eyes and turned his head to examine the side of his face. One whole side of his face was red with the bumpy carpet texture imprinted across his cheek.

As if it couldn't get any worse he happened to glance at his bedside clock.

11:46

"Oh, fuck!"

A/N: Um...I was gonna make this longer but...ah well. Too lazy I guess. Um...Revelations first, then Stars II, then probably Fate again 'cuz with passing Life back and forth it'll probably take ages to get up.

REVIEW! PLEASE!

I only had like 2 last time...TELL YOUR FRIENDS!

KissThis


	19. Choices

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Nineteen: Choices

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Separated by country borders

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Michael Jackson owns more of Harry Potter than I do...*snickers*

--

A/N: The going is kinda slow...sorry, but I now have FOUR stories going, Fate, Revelation, Stars II, and now Life. I shall do my best, though.

"You travel in ze company of a nymph, child..." Maxime mused. Her black eyes darted over the trio.

Hermione nodded politely, "Yes, Madame. She is Postvorta -- a prophetic nymph, a Camenae. She is also my advisor and confidant."

"Ve are not unfamiliar wiz beings such as she," Fleur input. 

"Ve are also not unfamiliar wiz ze _Zovereign Prophecy_ -- zo, some of us view it as only a child'z vairy-tale..."

"It is not." Postvorta intoned.

"Zo you say..." Madame Maxime's words didn't seem directed at any one person, least of all Postvorta. It was more like the hushed tone of one talking to themselves aloud. Nonetheless, Postvorta seemed compelled to answer.

"Since you have an above standard knowledge of my species, then you should know that we are _unable_ to tell a lie."

Fleur smiled faintly and nodded her head a bit.

"If I were to believe you, Miz Granger," Maxime started suddenly. "Vot vould you ask of me and my school?"

Hermione was silent for a moment. And then, quietly she said, "I will not lie to you Madame Maxime. I will not lie to you because I believe that you are not stupid. I believe that any attempt I would make on glossing over the true nature of my being here would insult you, your school, and the magical community of France. So I'm going to tell you the truth: If Voldemort attacked Beauxbatons -- tonight -- it would fall. _Hogwarts_ would fall." Hermione took a step forward. "We can't survive _alone_."

"How _can_ ve survive in such _darkness_...?" Fleur asked softly. The blue gaze she turned on Hermione was so different than the carefree look of the seventh year girl she had met years ago. So filled with pain.

"**Together**."

Fleur smiled, "You say that vith such confidence...I vant to believe you..."

Hermione grasped Fleur's shoulders, "Then _believe_. Believe in me. Believe in Hogwarts. Believe in the prophecy! But above _all_ else, Fleur...you _must_ believe that even this darkness, this shadow, **must** _pass_."

She turned to Maxime, now; the passion of her words making her golden eyes glow around the edges. "You _must_ believe that there's some _good_ in this world...And it's worth fighting for."

Madame Maxime, who had listened to the Hermione's speech without a word, remained silent. One could only imagine what was going through her mind as her black eyes stared off into the valley. Could she put her trust and the lives of her students in the hands of a girl barely seventeen?

"Please," Hermione pleaded. "You must bring your students to Hogwarts. Only there will they be safe -- only there will they stand a fighting chance! War is upon us Madame...I do not wish for your students to die like animals in a slaughterhouse. The people of France's blood is too great and filled with too much honor to be senselessly spilled."

"Stay and die, or stand and fight." Postvorta echoed. "It's all about the choice..."

Maxime's eyes blinked suddenly and she seemed to come back to herself. Stirring herself to action she thundered down the stone steps and came to a stop in front of the trio and Fleur.

"I've lived in zis darkness for too long, and I don't know if I can find ze strength to believe zat it _vill_ pass." She paused and Hermione held her breath.

"But...if _you_ believe zen _I_ believe in your 'ope. Ve _vill_ fight."

Draco was on his way to _Muggle Studies_ when he spotted a head of auburn curls bobbing through the crowd of students making their way to their own classes. The load of books he carried shifted in his hands and his pace quickened.

"Ginny!"

The instinct inherent to every soul made the girl stop and instantly look around upon hearing her own name. Her eyes landed on him and Draco watched her body relax and her weight sink to her heels. Her posture shifted to one of idleness. This idleness lasted until he caught up to her and they continued on down the corridor together.

"Ginny, I--"

She let out a raspy breath that caught and hitched in her throat. Draco stopped speaking abruptly and his hawk-like eyes darted across Ginny's face, that only at such a close range was he realizing to be puffy and red, especially around the eyes; as if she'd been crying.

"Is the meeting starting now?" She whispered quietly.

Draco was now genuinely confused, "Meeting? What meeting -- wait; Have you been crying?"

She nodded and the back of her palm swiped mechanically against her eyes ridding them of the tears that were beginning to form. Rummaging through her knapsack she retrieved a threadbare handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. "Yeah, even though Ron told me I shouldn't fret..._I couldn't help it_," Her voice cracked. "I mean...what if it's _really_ true Draco?"

He pulled her hand holding the kerchief away from her face and, without the shielding object in the way, looked into her eyes. Her shoulders he gripped firmly as if to anchor her there, but his fingers shifted incessantly against the fabric of her robes, belying his impatience. This impatience was fueled by the curiosity poorly hidden on his face as he bent a bit to reach Ginny's height.

"_What's_ going on, Gin?"

Ginny tried to pull away, her rust curls sweeping against her shoulders, but when his voice repeated inside her head -- a resonance of serious unawareness -- she ceased her struggles.

"Oh, God, you don't know..." She murmured frantically more to herself than he. "I thought you were going to meet with the Order."

Bells and sirens went off in Draco's head. The Order wasn't summoned unless something important was happening; or _had_ happened. Licking his lips, he said slowly; "I don't know anything, Ginny. I've been asleep up until now."

"Oh, _no_!" She wailed bursting into fresh tears. Unable to support the sudden weight pressed upon them, Ginny slid limply through his hands and fell flaccidly to the stone floor. The white handkerchief was instantly a sodden mess as the girl pressed her sobbing face to the rough linen.

"GINNY!"

"She's _gone_!" Ginny keened from the floor. "Hermione's **missing**!"

The Beauxbatons castle and all it's occupants lay sleeping, nestled in the heart of the La Vie Valley -- The Valley of Life. All but one. Even as dawn's golden fingertips were reaching out to caress the agéd stones a young women was rising.

Filled with anxiety, sleep was no longer able to contain her and she woke from her weak and restless sleep. High up in the castle's turret where guests were held pale blue draperies were pulled aside; a window was opened.

Framed within the tarnished bronze frame was a woman incomparable to any other. Hair still tousled from sleep framed her heart-shaped face with coffee-colored strands. A patched cerulean afghan was draped unconcernedly about her bare body -- the frayed hem ending just below her breasts, leaving the rest of her naked body hidden beneath the window's ledge. What bare skin could be seen still held a semblance of the sun's touch, but after weeks of being deprived from it's exposure the toning of her skin had begun to fade back towards pale ivory. Blazing ochre eyes gazed out into the eminent dawn dwarfing even the sun's brilliance.

It was September 23.

Hermione grunted with exertion as she hefted her heavy sword above her head and began her training exercise once more. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and dripped down onto her crimson shirt. Her shoulders tensed and her knuckles popped white as she completely reversed the direction of her spinning weapon and slashed it across the other way. Muscles screamed in protest of Hermione's relentless assault upon them and she gritted her teeth.

She spun on her heels and thrust her blade behind her. Twisting her body back around she sliced her sword upward through the air. A fierce cry was ripped from her throat as she rotated at the waist and flung out her arm. 

Her wrist extended and the golden hilt was released. Two inches of pure, shining steel pierced the thick wood of a nearby oak like it was nothing more than butter. It quivered slowly to a stop causing a brief shower of richly colored leaves to rain down upon the mossy ground.

An icy chill shot straight down to Hermione's toes and her head immediately began to buzz. Sweat rolled down the bridge of her nose and dropped down to disappear into the fog swirling about her ankles. She drew in a shaky breath, born of exertion, and slowly passed a hand over her eyes -- ineffectively attempting to rid her stingy eyes of salty sweat. Another icy burst erupted in her right shoulder and her arm was instantly numb.

Caring fingers stroked her hair in time to the rising and falling of her chest; soothing her. Hermione closed her eyes and placed a hand over the one caressing her shoulder.

"Use your power -- call it forth, give in to it. Summon your weapon back to you."

"Postvorta..." Hermione murmured.

The hand beneath hers slipped away and she regained the feeling in her arm, "I am here; do not be afraid."

"I am not afraid."

'Then you must do what needs to be done." Postvorta's remaining hand disengaged itself from her hair and Hermione's mind was filled with sharp clarity once more. She drifted lazily from her charge, letting the wind carry her away. Hermione stood stone still.

Hands clasped as if in prayer she called out:

__

"Hope who has created me,

Hope who bound itself to me;

I call you forth!"

Light burst from between the seams of her fingers; shallow spikes of gold. Her hands released themselves and separated steadily. Her fingers were still crooked like she was holding onto something. Bobbing slightly between her palms was a swirling ball of pure energy. It crackled like electricity and shot off sparks into the fog.

__

"Lend me your faith,

Give me your strength

And cleanse me of my human imperfections!"

The orb exploded over her hands. The golden light seeped up her arms like melted gold. In awe she lifted up her arm and as it caught the dawn light liquid ambrosia dripped down onto her clothes, staining them saffron. Her eyes rolled back into her head showing only the haunting whites. But even they too were consumed by the light and turned to blinding gold.

And she stood there...and let Hope overtake her. She felt herself slipping away, but did nothing to stop the energy from stealing her body from her. Only a deep sadness was left. And then she was no longer Hermione Granger. She was no longer a seventeen year old girl standing deadened in the fog.

She was Hope...

__

...She **was** the Sovereign of Light.

She existed now in a place beyond time -- She was ageless, carved by a divine hand into a marble perfection. She was immortal, and as such untouched by the effects of the world in which She walked. She did not know pain, She did not know sickness, She did not know suffering.......because She was unable to feel. The trials of the mortal world were foreign to Her.

She was the hand that kept the world in perfect balance.

She was the spirit that gave promises for the future.

SHE

WAS

**__**

HOPE

...With a human face sculpted into perpetual sadness.

An ivory hand lifted into the air and pulsing eyes locked on the buried sword. Blue light engulfed the sword and it began to tremble as Hope bent Her will upon it. The sword gave a relenting shriek and shot out the oak in a burst of splintered wood. She "pulled" it towards Herself and it spun violently into Her hand. She stood frozen.

"Sovereign?" Postvorta probed.

"To the castle." Her voice was deep and warped never holding to one voice. Only if you listened closely could you hear Hermione's voice; soft and quiet. "They are here."

The aura about Her spiked and Her wings unfurled. Her black gown flapped against Her bare legs and the fog about Her was blasted away as Hope took to the air rocketing back to the castle.

I hope you all like and I'm like WAY sorry it took forever. I apologize but I've just been swamped with school and I've got ninety-ba-jillion other stories going on so...beat me accordingly. Lol.

Review please! [if you're still out there]

KissThis


	20. Hope's Assimilation

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty: Hope's Assimilation 

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Separated by these things 

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: Michael Jackson owns more of Harry Potter than I do...*snickers*

--

A/N: THE BIG 2-0 BABY!!! I'm SO excited. I actually made it to twenty without hiatus. Yay me! So -- just for the occasion -- the chapter is going to be extra-so-special. Not like my chapters aren't fantabulous anyways, mind you. 

FYI: I hope you guys are in for a long haul 'cuz I don't see myself getting done with this story until it's in the fifties, _at least_. *crosses fingers* Let's just hope my gas lasts that long and I don't run outta juice.

A/N2: I BROKE my fingerso please be nice. It's quite difficult to type or write anything -- especially since it's my writing hand. Lucky me. 3 weeks and then I'll be all better. Gifts would be appreciated! Lol. Any little pixels doodles or dolls would be a pleasant surprise in my eMail box. I love all of you.

[Recaplet]

An ivory hand lifted into the air and pulsing eyes locked on the buried sword. Blue light engulfed the sword and it began to tremble as Hope bent Her will upon it. The sword gave a relenting shriek and shot out the oak in a burst of splintered wood. She "pulled" it towards Herself and it spun violently into Her hand. She stood frozen. 

"Sovereign?" Postvorta probed.

"To the castle." Her voice was deep and warped never holding to one voice. Only if you listened closely could you hear Hermione's voice; soft and quiet. "They are here."

The aura about Her spiked and Her wings unfurled. Her black gown flapped against Her bare legs and the fog about Her was blasted away as Hope took to the air rocketing back to the castle.

Hope beat Her giant wings and caught an updraft. Tucking them back against Her body She sped towards the castle in the distance that was rapidly growing closer and closer. Postvorta appeared sporadically beside Her -- traversing The Tunnel; only appearing briefly to establish the location and progress of her Sovereign.

Sword arm still cocked, Hope's guard was never dropped. As her speed increased the wind began to shriek as her streamlined body sliced through it.

_"Harry!"_

He turned around and around but couldn't find her. "I can't see you!" He screamed in frustration.

"Over here."

"Open your eyes."

"I'm here."

"Look there."

"No here."

"Look at** me**"

The voice echoed all around him, pulling him apart. More of the same voice joined in -- all clamoring to be heard over the others. The volume rose, pounding in his head. He clapped his hands over his ears but the voices still rolled over him echoing doubly so in his head.

"STOP!"

The voices ceased and he was left alone in the warped dimension in which he was trapped. He took a cautious step forward, as if the "floor" would suddenly give out, and looked around. "Who are you?"

A sound reached him: Sobbing. 

Who?

A girl. **_The_** girl was sobbing.

Where?

Behind him.

He spun around and found himself teetering on the edge of the so-called floor. With a gasp he stumbled back and stared wildly around at the warped red ground upon which he stood. Stepping forward again he peered over the edge into inky darkness that seemed to have no bottom. 

[Fall down there and you'd be dead for a long time] he thought. Well at least he thought he'd thought it -- because his own voice was echoing across the plane. He turned back to the drop-off and a small white speck caught his eye. A calming relief in the sea of black.

It wasn't calming for long...it was rushing up to meet him! 

As it drew closer it formed a perfect square shape getting only larger as it rushed upward. Then suddenly the ground was shaking furiously and the white tile had attached itself to the edge of the drop-off. He didn't even see it's shadowed partner until it too appeared next to the first and attached to red. Another pair flew up from the shadow and attached themselves to one another.

10

16

28

40

He had waited with growing unease as the alternating tiles had slammed into place, and now that there seemed to be no more additions he let his emerald eyes sweep over the sudden manifestation in front of him. Eight by eight. That made sixty-four tiles...

Warning signs were going off in his brain. This was familiar -- he'd done this before...but when? How? He couldn't seem to gather any rational thought...

The sobbing was louder now. A deep, painful, keening cry that was drawing him. He looked across the tile pathway and to the opposite floating red island to which it was attached. A crumpled form was sprawled across the crimson expanse.

"Harry..." the voice breathed. The sobbing grew louder.

"I'm coming!" He called out.

Throwing his previous caution to the wind he ran forward onto the tiles. Giant forms exploded from the squares and towered high above him and he was frozen in fear. A great, black horse beside him whinnied and kicked its forelegs into the air; dangerously close to him. He shrunk back as hollow eyes stared straight through him.

WHITE MOVES FIRST -- a mechanical voice boomed.

"Help me..."

He turned away from the anxiously prancing horse and looked out across the tiles. Something was clicking in his head. He'd done this before. Ron's mischievous visage appeared in his mind followed by Hermione's smiling face. They faded away. 

BISHOP TO F4

He hadn't been paying attention to the actions of the figures around him and was caught completely unaware. The black tile upon which he stood rumbled to life and levitated into the air. It slowly drifted over to the commanded location and promptly disappeared. With a shout of surprise he hit the tile painfully and struggled back to his feet.

"I'm here."

"Please help me."

"I can't get out."

"Come..."

The voice echoed and died out to be replaced, not with crying, but with screams.

"NO!" Dropping his bishop robes he darted forward.

YOU ARE UNABLE TO MOVE THERE. DO NOT ATTEMPT AGAIN.

An invisible forced pulled him back and sent him tumbling back down onto his square. He leapt forward again, but the pawns beside him drew their swords and blocked his way. 

The screaming wouldn't stop!

He retreated to the back edge of his five by five, black cell. His teeth ground together in frustration and he glared at the pawns blocking his passage. "Help me." The voice begged over the screaming.

"I can't beat the game. I'm no good -- this was always Ron's strength." He whispered.

"Save me."

"I CAN'T!" He screamed back futilely.

"Can't? Or won't?" The screaming ceased.

He swallowed nervously, "Hello?" he called out.

Silence.

QUEEN TO B5

As the towering white figure bearing a scepter and a dagger slid across the tiles and away from him, he looked across the game board in trepidation. The body was gone.

[Oh GOD!]

The soldiers couldn't react fast enough as Harry went running forward and slid beneath their crossed swords. Then he was back on his feet darting around the other bishops angrily swinging their staffs at him and ducking beneath the franticly bucking knight's horse.

GAME OVER

Chunks of rock rained down upon him as his king exploded. The tile beneath him melted and started to suck him downwards. His flailing only succeeded in pulling him farther into the warped tile and the gooey blackness filled his mouth. He struggled to keep his nose above the pit, but it wasn't long before he was completely immersed. The blackness filled every orifice. It was quickly hardening

He couldn't breathe!

Just as darkness began to take him the bottom opened and dropped him out onto a floating island amidst a sea of stars. Hunched over on his knees he choked and coughed, forcing the black goop from his lungs. As rapidly as it had hardened it returned to a liquid state even thinner than it's original consistency. It poured from his nose and dripped out of his ears and stained the grass black. 

He stood and tore a strip of cloth from his pajamas using it to clean his neck. He removed his glasses and wiped his face free of the goop. 

"Harry." The voice came so suddenly that he dropped his glasses. With blurred vision he saw the glinting glass land upon the black liquid and sink into the ground.

"I'm here."

"Who are you?" He turned around to face her, but without his glasses he could barely see.

"You came." She grabbed his arm and started pulling him along behind her, "We must leave here. It's not safe."

He tried to get her to stop, but she kept running forward and right off the island. Through half-blind eyes he looked around in shock as they ran through the field of stars without hindrance.

"I can't get out."

"Stuck"

"Get me free."

"No can't leave"

"Must go"

"Save me"

"Get out!"

Harry's head craned around as the voices assailed him from all sides. His companion had stopped walking and was whirling frantically around. She started to cry. It was the same sobbing sound he's heard before Wizard's Chess.

Her legs folded beneath her and she crumpled to the invisible ground wailing on and on. 

"Don't let go of my hand."

"Hold on."

"Don't drop me..."

He barely had time to make out the different words through the voices and process them before the ground beneath the girl disappeared and she fell. He dropped to his stomach and grabbed for her hand. By "blind" luck he managed to find her hand through the fog that cloaked his eyes.

He held tight to her hand halting her descent. She swung back and forth through the dark, star-lined expanse. Her sobs never ceased and she seemed unable to control them.

"Pull me up."

"You can't hold on forever."

"Save me"

"Slipping."

And indeed she was slipping.

"You. Can't. Save. Her."

His vision suddenly cleared and he was staring into blazing red eyes. Fangs appeared as thin, scarred lips peeled back into a sadistic smile.

"Voldemort!" He exclaimed. He ripped his hand away from the clawed grasp of the dark wizard, and his vision instantly reverted back to its true form.

Screaming.

Leaping forward again he saw not Voldemort, but the girl disappearing into the dark. Her robes billowed around her as she plummeted to her almost assured doom -- her screams never wavering. He cried out. He reached for her...but she was gone.

****

THUD!

Harry woke with a start and found himself laying tangled in a heap of blankets upon his floor. He drew in a shaky breath and pressed a palm to his chest in an attempt to calm the wild beating of his heart. It had just been a dream. And now it was over. He cocked his head; but the screaming was _not_.

Putting on his glasses he ran to his window and flung it open just as Hermione came rocketing past in a flurry of gossamer wings. She must have been close to breaking the sound barrier because as she flew against the winds at an increasing speed a screeching sound rose up behind her.

Fearing the worst, he threw his robes on over his pajamas and grabbing his broom, tumbled out the window. He allowed himself hardly any time to get properly situated on the broom before he was urging it after Hermione.

Apparently he wasn't the only one to be awoken by the noise Hermione was projecting. Windows were opening all around the castle and sleepy faces were peering out into the foggy dawn. Shortly after Harry's broomstick stunt, Fleur had flung open the main doors and was sprinting across the grass towards the lake. Madame Maxime was not far behind, her great strides and thundering steps quickly bridging the distance.

Hope plunged down downward and let Her momentum and gravity pull Her straight to the ground. Moments before Her body impacted with the ground Her wings unfurled once again, catching the wind and lifting Her back up; like a feathered parachute. She gracefully touched-down upon one foot, soon to be followed by the other and then -- folding Her wings back -- stood stoically at the edge of the lake staring into the blue-green water.

The Tunnel opened beside Her and Postvorta slid out, closing the gateway behind her with a wave of her hand. The nymph floated silently beside her mistress and stared blankly out across the lake, waiting patiently and unquestioningly.

Then she heard it.

It was a soft and eerie sound; a sucking, slurping sound. And it was growing louder. The ground began to vibrate and rumble and stones clattered off the banks and into the water. Hope didn't even twitch. Her gaze remained fixed upon the middle of the lake.

Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the grassy banks. The icy water rolled over Hope's ankles, and this time she rose into the air. Hovering. Waiting.

And then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared; foaming waters churning and swirling downwards. Two more appeared on either side of the first, still with the slurping and sucking, now magnified. 

"Hermione!" Harry cried, skidding to a stop.

Long, black poles began to rise slowly into the fog, holding tight to their dripping riggings. Three, giant, skeletal-like ships were emerging from the depths of the lake. Hope let out a hawk-like screech and dove down into the water with a tremendous splash.

"Are you sure about this _girl_, Viktor?"

"I'm sure, Aleksandar." Viktor Krum turned down the ship's corridor with his dubious friend trailing behind. Shuffling duck-footed feet, Krum ambled down the short stretch of the hall, banging on doors as he went. When he had reached the ladder leading to the deck, he had acquired a long train of anxiously fidgeting students behind him.

"But why would she bring us to Beauxbatons? This could be a trap," Aleksandar hissed. He kept his voice soft so as not to startle the others. "The Headmaster will have noticed half his students are gone by now -- we'll have nowhere to go back to."

Krum said nothing. Twisting open the hatch, he pushed it open and climbed out into the fog. The students hesitated a moment and then followed him above deck. The comforting sounds of creaking wood and flapping sails greeted their ears as they all piled out of the ship's hull. On either side of them the remaining ships were doing the same.

Now they all looked toward Krum standing slightly hunched at the bow. His thick black eyebrows were furrowed staring out at the lake's bank.

"Krum?!" Harry gaped in disbelief.

" 'Arry." Krum glowered -- clearly not impressed. Harry looked down at his striped pajamas and flushed. 

"What trickery is this?" Aleksandar snarled to his captain. "We did not come to see the _mighty_ Harry Potter."

Krum held up a hand demanding silence. Krum, who seemed never to speak unless it was entirely necessary, waited a moment before eventually deciding to speak. "Where is Herm-own-ninny, Potter?"

Harry's bare feet shifted nervously on the wet grass. "In the lake," he called out to the boat. "She dove in just as your boats started to appear."

"Enough of your lies!" A girl cried from the boat on Krum's starboard side. "The currents would have killed her!"

"Hermione's gone."

Krum looked down at Postvorta, for it was she who had spoken. Harry was the one who spoke next.

"What are you talking about, Postvorta?! You just saw her jump!"

"Hermione's gone." She repeated.

Fleur and Madam Maxime now came running up to the lakeside. Both still in their sleepwear and bed-robes and panting, they too looked rather unimpressive. 

"Viktor." Fleur said between breaths.

"Fleur." He replied with a nod in her direction.

She brushed the wisps of blonde hair from her eyes and turned to Harry. "Ver is Herm'ne?"

"She's gone." "In the lake." Postvorta and Harry answered at the same time. Harry turned and glared at the nymph who only stared blankly back.

Suddenly heads appeared out of the water. Merpeople. Their long, wild, dark green hair floated about them, blending into the water. They had grayish translucent skin and their veins stood out strongly beneath the surface. Thick pebbles were strung about their necks as crude necklaces and seashells were tangled into their long manes.

Their mouths opened, bearing sharp and broken teeth and they began to screech. High pitched streams of screechy words echoed from all across the lake. The sheer volume the merpeople were producing forced the humans to cover their ears.

"What are they saying?" Harry shouted over the clamor.

"I cannot tell!" Fleur yelled back. "Ze are talking too vast. I can't make sense of it."

"Stand back." Postvorta monotoned.

The water in front of them began to ripple, and without a warning it exploded in a massive burst of icy water as Hope shot up into the air. Her mighty wings beat up and down spraying water all around. Water dripped off Her soaked body and disappeared back into the lake from whence it came -- the gold aura about Her body remained undimmed.

In one hand She held Her sword, it's sleek metallic blade reflecting the early light; and in the other She held the collar of a masked man desperately flailing in Her grasp.

The merpeople let out a united scream. The ferocious looking creatures turned their luminous yellow eyes to the sky and bared their teeth; hissing and screeching. Weapons appeared out of the water; crudely fashioned spears with sharpened rock tips, coral daggers. Those without weapons threw their crooked fists into the air; their webbed hands clawing at the air.

"Hermione!" Harry called out.

Hope didn't even acknowledge him. The masked man looked down at the ground and let out a terrified cry. He began to fumble in his pocket. He pulled out his wand but only managed to open his mouth before Hope's sword sliced clean through the thin wood. He dropped the destroyed object in shock and the two pieces dropped into the lake.

"_Diffindo._"

The man's sleeve up to his shoulder was cut away, baring pale ivory. The brand on his wrist blazed.

"I know you can hear me, Riddle." A dozen different voices overlaid one another. The man trembled.

"It is over, Riddle. I have her now and you don't have a chance."

The man stopped flailing, and his entire presence seemed to change. Then he began to laugh. The merpeople screamed below them. Hope too bared Her teeth in a snarl and shook the man violently in Her grasp. His mask fell away and a serpent's face appeared from the shadow of the robe's hood to stare back at Her.

"Stand DOWN!" She shouted.

"You may have Her, but Fate isn't set in stone." The serpent hissed.

"Fate is inevitable, and your time has run out."

It hissed angrily, "I will _never_ stop."

Hope's sad face turned away from him, "Then you will die. You have nothing left -- Hope has forsaken you. _I_ have forsaken you." She uttered in disgust. Her sword raised.

"Would you kill him?" 

"I would kill _you_, serpent. You have made this man your servant and embodied him with your evil. He dies too."

"Go ahead," It told Her indifferently. "I have thousands more. They will follow me 'til death." It's ruby eyes blazed in twisted passion. "_They will overrun you_."

"There is a balance to be kept. Good must triumph...this is _not_ your time."

"War has begun -- this _is_ my time. You cannot save them"

"It's not about saving. It's about _destiny_. Only death awaits you, now." She deadpanned.

"It's all about the _choice_." It's forked tongue darted out. "--Make yours."

"Choice is an illusion." She told him -- and then she let go. The serpent face vanished, and the death eater screamed as he fell. The merpeople grinned wickedly and swarmed together as he fell upon them. Their high noises drowned out his screams of terror and they pulled him beneath the surface.

The bubbles trailed off and the water became calm once more. Hope glided back down to the bank and landed beside Fleur. "Get the students." She ordered in Her many voices. 

Then She turned Her head to look at the woman and blinked Her empty, glowing eyes. Fleur gasped and stumbled backward pressing a hand over her mouth. "Oh God! Herm'ne!"

Hope blinked again. She stared at the woman a moment longer and then turned away. Stabbing Her sword into the soft earth she turned to face the Durmstrangs. The fog swirled up around Her and blurred Her wings; they faded away. "He was heading to attack your ships. He killed a merchild on the way. Justice has been served on both counts."

"Herm-own-ninny?" Krum's voice was skeptical.

"I told you she was gone." Postvorta said.

"I told you to leave!" Hope shouted suddenly. She disappeared, only to reappear amid the students on the flagship. Flinging out Her arm, a pulsating globe of golden energy appeared and She blasted it up into the air. A spark shot from the crown of Her head streaked down the front of Her hair, making it appear blonde.

There was a muffled shout, and from the coverage of the clouds another black-clad body fell and disappeared into the water. The broom they had been riding lurched out of the clouds and disappeared into the shrouded lagoon.

"Stand DOWN!" She shouted into the air. She turned around several times, as if expecting another attacker to appear out of the fog, before She was satisfied that they were presently in no danger. Wraithlike, She passed straight through the Durmstrang students, with each step sinking deeper into the deck. When She reached Krum at the bow, the last windblown tendril of Her hair grazed the tip of his boot and then She was gone.

He turned to the bank to find Her walking across it like She'd never left. Harry ran to Her and grabbed Her arm. "Hermione! What's happened to you."

She shrugged off his hand and turned Her sad face to his. A golden strand of hair blew over Her eyes. "I am Hope. I cleansed her and now I have her body." She looked back over Her shoulder at the motionless groups. "We must hurry. It is no longer safe."

"What have you done with her?" Harry demanded. The fog reached it's wispy hands upward and clung to Her dress. It was as if they were sucking the life from it; it was slowly turning white -- as Her hair was turning blonde.

"I have given her all mortals' desire. _ Perfection_." Hope told him.

Harry's fists clenched. "She doesn't want perfection!"

The wind picked up, "All mortals are the same. Who are you to say she wishes any different?"

"She's my friend; I know her. She's not like everybody else, she special -- you must set her free!"

She began to walk again, clearly wishing to leave the persistent boy behind. The fog enveloped Her, screening Her from site. Harry didn't hesitate to run after Her, and he too disappeared within the mists.

" 'Arry! No!" Fleur called out to stop him, but it was futile.

With Her fair skin, now-stark white dress, and flaxen hair Hope all but melted into the fog that seemed to have only grown since the dawn. But even if he had been blind, Harry would have found Her. He could still sense Hermione inside Her altered body, and her sadness, that even affected Hope's appearance, drew him to Her.

"You're going to kill her!" He shouted angrily. "GIVE HER BACK TO ME!"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the disturbance in the fog and darted forward to grab the woman. Cold steel pressed against his neck, and eerie golden eyes glowed from within the screen of fog.

"That body isn't yours," He whispered against the blade. "You _stole_ it -- and you **must** give it back."

"It was an honorable sacrifice." The voices said together.

"You didn't even give her a chance."

"It was inevitable."

He laughed weakly and the blade pressed harder against his windpipe, "There you go using that word again...inevitable. That's what you don't understand about humans. Nothing is inevitable because things are what we make of them with our choices."

"Why do you beings insist on '_choices_'?" She asked. "They do not exist and are thus pointless. Merely an illusion you have created to mask your inability to change your own destinies."

"How do you know that simply believing that we have a say in our destiny _doesn't_ affect the outcome of our fate." He smiled sardonically into Her stony face.

"Humans think too much. I should kill you now for opposing me. It is _I_ who am needed in this war -- not you."

"You're wrong. We _don't_ need you." Hopes eyes widened as Harry's hands clapped down over her wrist and lifted it from his face. "We need _her_." His grip on her arm tightened.

"Now give me back my friend."


	21. Powerless?

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty One: Powerless?

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: She still remembers him

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I don't know why they make us put these up. If I put one on the first chapterthen it should count all the way through. Though if you steal MY stuff [ie: the plot] I'll want to murder your friends and family and leave you strung up in some remote cornfield, but I'll remember to say to myself: "What would Jesus Do?" So I'd set you on fire and send you to hell. :-D

--

A/N: Yay! I'm SO excited. I know the last chapter may have been a bit confusing, but hopefully it'll all get cleared up in this chapter.

Hermione groaned. Rolling onto her back she groggily rubbed at her eyes and opened them. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach and she blinked her eyes several times experimentally. Nothing. Tentatively, she reached up to feel if her eyes were indeed open. They were. Her stomach dropped.

Unfaltering darkness surrounded her naked form.

She forced her disoriented mind to remember how she'd gotten to this _empty_ place. She sat up and rested her forehead upon her drawn up knees; her breathing ragged. She remember training, and Postvorta, and --

She swallowed slowly.

_Hope_.

She was here because of Hope.

She'd asked the primeval force to rise up. She'd wanted to train with her newly awoken powers so she'd be ready to call upon them for the final battle. But Hope had had other ideas. She remembered it now..._the takeover_. 

The instant the orb had exploded over her hands she had known something was wrong -- terribly wrong. But she had already surrendered herself to the power. She was powerless to stop it. All she was able to do was to watch as the energy coated her body, and then feel the overwhelming helplessness as her body was taken from her.

Hope had spread throughout her body, conquering her as the wild fires conquered the dry plains and pushing her out of the way. She had lost herself and then awoken here. 

She was then trapped in the farthest corner of her own mind, forced to spend the next eternity in a dark and inescapable prison. Despair took her. Curling up into a small ball she tried to bring comfort to herself, but failed. She wept.

"Now give me back my friend."

Hermione lifted her tear-stained face from her knees and looked around into the darkness. Uncoiling her body she slowly lifted herself onto her feet. She turned around jerkily and shivering.

"Harry?" She whimpered and wrapped her arms about herself.

"She is powerless to stop the coming battle." Hope said.

Harry dropped Her arm and pushed Her away from him. "Whether you think that or not, it doesn't matter. What should matter to _you_ is the principle you have broken. You've taken something that isn't yours to take...and you must return it!"

"I don't take orders from _humans_."

"Then you better start."

"Don't threaten me. You're wasting your breath."

"Then enough talk." Harry's wan was out in a flash. With a steady hand he pointed it straight at Hope's heart.

Hermione flung herself towards the source of Harry's voice and rebounded off a solid wall. Falling back, she slid backwards across the floor on her side. Sitting up she wiped the tearstains from her face before struggling back to her feet. Arms outstretched she walked slowly back in the direction she'd come from. After a few steps her hand connected with the wall. She pressed her ear to it.

"Harry?"

There was only silence. His voice had faded away.

Despair filled her again and for a moment she doubted that she had truly been hearing his voice. No...that couldn't be true. She couldn't really be alone!

Tears, now of anger, poured down her cheeks and she bent her will upon the wall of her cage. Ferociously, she began clawing at the darkness, screaming and crying in frustration. She banged her fists and her prison shook.

"Harry!" She screamed.

With all her strength and might she fought to chip away the darkness. Her nails splintered and her fingers began to bleed, but she never slowed her relentless attack upon the wall.

She had to get out...

Hope's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Hermione screamed again, banging harder and harder. The wall was starting to form spidery, thin cracks that glowed white across the background of black. Bits were chipping off and clattering to the floor; pooling around her feet. Her power was draining.

"You can't do this to me, Hope! You can't keep me here!" She howled into the shadow.

With one last enraged scream she leapt back at the wall and punched straight through it. Light burst through the fist-sized opening, blanketing Hermione's slumped form in it's blinding warmth. Unable to move, she lay half-leaning against the beaten wall; struggling just to breathe.

_In and out_, _in, out..._she repeated to herself over and over again, as if thinking it would re-energize her lungs and spur them on. A numbness was beginning to spread through her legs and she was already seeing white spots dancing across her vision.

One of Hope's eyes was twitching sporadically, and She was struggling to recover Her voice. Postvorta appeared -- wraithlike -- out of the mists and glided slowly about Harry's shocked form.

"This...c-can't...urgh!" Hope groaned and lifted a hand to Her temple.

"What's happening to Her, Postvorta?" Harry asked quietly.

Her head appeared beside his ear. "It seems our beloved Hermione has awoken." Harry flushed, but Postvorta had turned to face the struggling Hope. "...And she's fighting back."

Hope was clutching at Her eye as She stumbled forward. She grabbed Postvorta by the throat and pulled her up off the ground. "Look what she's done to my _perfect_ face!" She shouted. 

She let Her hand fall away and Harry recoiled in shock. The glow had dimmed and the whites had returned to Her eyes, but the irises were now flickering violently from one color to the next. One pink and the other green; now blue and brown. It was nauseating to look at and Harry had to avert his eyes to keep from vomiting.

Hope's grip on Postvorta tightened and She shook the nymph like a limp rag doll growling fiercely into the blank face. Postvorta simply stared back down at her attacker and blinked her eyes. "I don't breathe."

Hope's sad face twitched. Then She was no longer clutching to the nymph's neck. Postvorta slid liquidly through Hope's arm and floated back several feet to hover next to Harry once again. She reached out a watery arm, and in only the second violent display Harry had seen her commit, blasted out a churning ring of water; wrapping it tightly about Hope's neck.

"It's time for you to go." Postvorta said quietly.

Hope's rapidly changing eyes narrowed. "I don't breathe, either."

Postvorta's fingers snapped and the ring disappeared. "Fairs fair. However, I cannot allow you to damage Hermione's body."

"This body was destined to be mine!" She screeched. "--And I will not give it up!"

Harry took a step towards her. "Hermione?"

"Hermione?"

Hermione struggled to open her eyes. "Harry." She moaned. She hadn't imagined it. His voice was _real_.

"Hermione, can you hear me?"

Her mouth strained to voice the words to reply. She was so empty -- all of her energy had gone to that last ditch effort to break free, and she had failed. She shuddered involuntarily and gave back in to the numbing sleep from which she'd been roused.

The world was now safe...she rationalized in her head and in light of such an immense greatness her sacrifice seemed of little consequence.

The light began to fade away, and without moving her head she looked up to see the broken wall slowly beginning to seal itself back up. It seemed suddenly very cold and the darkness was creeping back upon her. She cried out, self-piteously "I can hear you", but the silence stretched on.

A sudden golden light burst from between Hope's fingers, and when She drew Her hand away Her eye had returned to its previous state. The other continued to flip-flop between colors, making for a disconcerting contrast. A low and throaty chuckle left Her throat, and as if something had come and wiped it away, the innate sadness was gone.

"Don't you see?" She laughed, "Hermione is gone. She was infinitely insignificant compared to _my_ part in way of the world. And now she's not coming back."

"You're wrong." Postvorta said softly.

"Oh am I? I don't think so," Hope looked down at Her new body and turned around a bit, "In fact..." She grinned wolfishly. "I _like _this body -- I think I just might keep it."

"HERMIONE!" Harry shouted so suddenly, both Postvorta and Hope jumped.

Hermione had almost lost herself, but the shouting had awoken her once again. Her lolled on her shoulders.

_It's no use Harry..._

"Damnit Hermione! You can't give up now!"

_Too late_.

"You _must_ keep fighting."

"_I can't get out. I'm not strong enough._" Hope clapped Her hands over Her mouth, equally as shocked to hear Hermione's voice coming from it.

Postvorta leapt forward, as did Harry both staring intently at Her. Images from Harry's dream flashed in his mind.

"You're as strong as you believe you can be."

Hermione's eyes snapped open. He'd heard her. He'd heard her!

"The world needs you. We all need you; Ginny, Ron, me, Draco..."

"_Draco..._" She whispered, forcing her cracked lips to speak.

"You better be ready for this Hermione -- I believe in you." Then his wand was out and he had already launched a spell at Hope. The red energy hit Her square in the chest, and Her mouth dropped open. She gapped in shock at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"You kill me...and she's as good as dead." She said through gritted teeth. "_I_ can always find another body. Can you say the same for your friend?"

"I think you're wrong."

Hermione had barely anytime to react before the red energy was crashing over her like crimson waves. It filled her small cell drowning her and seeping out the yet unfixed cracks in the wall. Instantly she realized what Harry was doing and surrendered herself to the magic.

It seemed into every pore of her body and swam through her veins from head to toe. Power filled her and her body re-energized. With powerful strokes she swam back to the bottom of her prison and with a mighty thrust buried her arm up to the shoulder into the black floor. 

In her mind she saw the great swirling ball of energy deep in her body's stomach. It was so warm...she reached out with her mind and grabbed a hold of it. Scalding heat burned her hand spreading quickly up her arm. Then the pain stopped as the gathered energy joined with the magic from Harry's spell.

"I can change the magic -- I know I can."

"_I can change the magic -- I know I can._" Hope glared at Harry whose wand disappeared back into his sleeve. "What have you done?!"

Beneath Her still-flickering eye, silvery thin cracks appeared. Shimmering red energy began to slowly slip through the gashes and drip steadily down Her cheeks -- it looked like Her eye was bleeding.

Then She was doubled over, clutching at Her stomach.

"I've righted your wrong." He said quietly.

Soon all the red energy had been gathered inside her -- mixed with Hope's powers. Walking straight to the wall where she had started she stared at the hole that was struggling to close itself. She grabbed the edges of it and yanked it open larger.

Hope's eye began to flicker again with more cracks forming beneath and spilling forth the thick, red energy. She looked truly pathetic, having fallen to Her knees with magic bleeding from eyes She was no longer able to control, and Her dimmed blonde hair hanging in Her face.

"You've damned this world." Hope hissed, baring Her teeth.

"I can live with that." He told Her simply. "I made the choice."

She spat upon the ground. "Choice is an ill--"

Light exploded from Her open mouth, followed by fist.

Harry jumped away from Hope's crumbling body, truly frightened by what he was seeing.

"LET ME GO, BITCH!"

Another hand followed the first, and then impossibly, Hermione's head. With a grimace on her face the brunette fought the invisible power that was trying to pull her back and pulled her body from Hope's mouth.

Arms crossed over her bare chest, Hermione stood before Harry smiling. Ethereal and translucent she flickered in and out of his vision for a moment before she jumped backward into Hope's startled body and disappeared.

"Postvorta?"

"Watch."

Hope's body convulsed and began to shudder uncontrollably. The energy on Her cheeks hardened and then shattered, falling to the grass. Harry darted forward, but Postvorta held him back. He pushed her out of the way and fell to his knees beside Hope/Hermione. He pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. 

Her eyes closed, her hair darkened back into rich mahogany, and her dress faded back to black and then disappeared completely to be replaced by her outfit of red.

Her eyelids flickered open and she stared up at Harry with her rich honey eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

Harry smiled back and helped her to her feet.

"We'll talk about this later, right now we need to get the students to the safety of Hogwarts." She told him forcefully.

Harry was worried, " 'Mione?"

She gave a slight shiver, but it didn't go unnoticed by him, "I'll be fine. Let's go." Turning on her heel she started off towards the lake through fog that was already beginning to lift and dissipate.

He turned to Postvorta, "Keep and eye on her, Postvorta. I'm worried."

Postvorta glided forward, staring after Hermione's retreating form. "As am I. Dumbledore should be informed -- things are not going to plan."

HEY! OkI knowa bit shorter than last times, but Megs' been bugging me to get started on Stars and I must soah well. Plus I should probably get cruising on Revelations, which I've left sit for more than a month.

Review if you love me!

KissThis


	22. Sine Sensus Without Feeling

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Two: _Sine Sensus_ - Without Feeling

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: He obviously remembers _her_

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: All Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K. and Warner Bros., etc. Basically I don own nuthin' 'cept the plotline. And it's going to stay mine! *pointed stare* Are we clear? [Mutters:] Crazy plot pirates...

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A/N: Chapter 22! Make a wish!

September 23 8:05 AM

"Draco."

Draco looked up from his parchment to see Tonks framed in the library's doorway. Gathering his robes about his body he stood up from his chair and collected his meager school supplies together into his school bag. He glanced up to see Tonks shifting impatiently from side to side. He finished quickly.

Falling into step beside her, Draco matched Tonks' hurried pace. Nymphadora looked over at the boy and sympathy pulled at her heartstrings. His hair was a greasy, dirty mess that hung over his dull, sunken eyes. No one ever saw him at meals anymore and it was obvious he wasn't getting food from the kitchens in the way that his wrinkled robes dwarfed his bony body. Hermione's disappearance was affecting him the most out of all of them.

"Is the Order meeting?" His voice was grating and low.

Tonks made a noise in the affirmative then quickly changed the subject. "You haven't been sleeping Draco."

Reflexively, his hands reached up and he rubbed at his red and puffy eyes. He lowered them and turned his weary gaze on her. "Neither have you."

"More so than you, I'll warrant."

Draco shrugged.

"You're of no use to the Order when you're dead tired like this, Draco." Tonks said, "You _need_ to sleep -- you can't stay awake forever." She reasoned.

Draco shifted his bag higher up on his shoulder, "I can't sleep...not without knowing..."

"Pink bubble gum." The gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office sprang to life. Tonks turned to the younger boy. "Don't be such a fool to think you're the only one that cares about Hermione! We're all waiting for _any_ news."

He looked away.

"Hermione wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

Draco started on ahead of her up the stairs. "Hermione isn't really in any position to give orders."

--

"You're all here; good, good." Dumbledore murmured through his beard. Ever since Hermione's disappearance he'd been more distracted and absent-minded as if all the ages he'd never shown were finally wearing down on him.

"Why haven't we heard from Fletcher?" Diggory asked from beside the fireplace.

Dumbledore mumbled something under his breath and patted his robes. Letting out a triumphant noise he retrieved his wand from one of his robe's numerous pockets and lit the fireplace; startling the nearby Amos.

"He told me he had news that was best uttered within safe company."

Draco's sagging head snapped up from near-sleep and Ron leapt up from his chair. The defenseless oak piece went toppling over and skidded across the polished floor. "Did he say anything about Hermione?!" Ron demanded.

Dumbledore's eyes lowered beneath his half-moon spectacles and he seemed for an instant sadly dwarfed by his long white beard. "I'm sorry, son."

Ron stared off with glazed eyes and pained confusion. Draco barely allowed himself to meet his headmaster's dimmed eyes before he dropped his head into his hands.

"I'm afraid he didn't mention Hermione. We still have no information on her whereabouts."

"Then what's the point..." Draco demanded in a soft voice.

Sirius grabbed a fistful of the boy's robes and lifted him from his chair. Draco didn't even struggle.

'There is still a war going on!" He emphasized his words with several shakes of the suspended Slytherin. "You stupid kid! Hermione's life isn't the only one that matters!"

"Sirius stop it!" Remus shouted. Sirius ignored his friend's pleas and the hands pulling on his arms.

"You talk about her like she's already dead." The room froze. Draco looked around, as much he could due to his position, and then back down at Sirius. "Everyone is thinking it...I just said it..."

Sirius snarled and threw him back onto his chair in disgust. The furniture piece had not been built to withstand such a momentum and collapsed. "You self-involved, son-of-a-bitch. Harry was with her too! So don't think you're the only one who cares!"

"Sirius!" McGonagall exclaimed as Remus and Tonks pulled the angry man to the other side of the room. "Please! Everyone! We must not let our tempers loose. This situation is tense enough without our petty quarrels."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Minerva is right. Until Mundungus arrives..."

There was a sharp squeak from behind the headmaster. Dedalus Diggle, an easily excitable man, was bouncing back and forth in front of a sparking fireplace attempting to keep a ridiculously large violet top hat from falling off his head. "He's here!" The tiny wizard squeaked just as the flames burst into deep emerald.

There was a series of loud popping and snapping sounds echoing through the fireplace. The flames flared once and out of the grate shot a soot-covered Mundungus Fletcher. Diggle and Mrs. Weasley rushed forward to help set the man to rights.

"Tea, Mundungus?" Dumbledore asked — as if they were meeting for nothing more important than a friendly chat over a good book. He motioned to a steaming kettle resting on his desk. 

Fletcher nodded gruffly and shook his shabby trench coat, knocking a thin layer of ash and soot onto the immaculate floor. He shuffled forward and took the offered drink with muted thanks.

The assembled Order grouped around their reconaissance agent as best they could and waited eagerly for the man to speak.

Ron turned at the soft sound of scurrying feet. A tendril of smoke was rising from the floor beside Dumbledore's desk. The wood gleamed in the firelight without a trace of soot or debris.

"S.P.E.W." he murmured under his breath. "Hermione..."

"What's going on, Fletch?" Tonks asked impatiently.

He set down his teacup and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"It seems the young girl was right to leave so early," He wheezed, shifting under his massive coat. "It might've helped."

"Might have?" Tonks voiced.

"If whatever happened to her _hadn't_ happened we may have had a chance in this war." He pulled a small flask from the dark interior of his robes and took a long drink — reveling in the bitter, burning taste that scorched his throat.

"What are you saying?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Beauxbatons has emptied." He deadpanned. "They're gone."

Molly turned away from the group, "Oh God..." She whispered. She looked sick.

"They're fleeing." Severus spoke for the first time since the meeting had started. Several people jumped — his silence having made them forget he was there at all. He emerged from his customary position in the shadowed corner of Dumbledore's office and stepped into the light, "I figured as much; a small percentage of Durmstrang has also disappeared. It is rumored they are being led...by _Krum_."

"Is Hogwarts the only one brave enough to make a stand?"

Dumbledore smiled weakly at the youngest Weasley boy. "They are afraid. This threat has long been concealed by the Ministry. They're panicking."

"They're _fools_." Sirius said loudly. "Where do they think they can go?"

No one answered.

"Voldemort's spies are everywhere — his reach is growing farther each day. And each _second_ he is tightening his hold on this world. The Dark Lord is ever watchful; there is nowhere they can run where he won't see them...won't find them."

"They're doing what they think is right by them." Remus answered in his soft voice, "We can ask no more of them."

"Lupind is right." Moody added brusquely. "Now we must do what is right by _us_."

A small ruby crustacean scuttled across the bottom of the waterbed and disappeared into a crevice hidden within a nest of coral. It seemed to have taken cover just in time; a small merchild tumbled clumsily to a stop holding a large, jagged rock in her small, webbed hand. In a child's inquisitiveness the mer circled the spot where her prey had taken refuge, attempting to see into the shadowed hole. The second time she swam above the coral, the crustacean, believing the danger had passed, poked its head out of the coral. Instantly, the merchild was upon it, banging her rock across the opening.

"ROCK!" She shouted at a particularly strong bang. "Rock! Rock! Rock!"

The crab had eluded her once again.

"Kerab!" The girl screeched. Her rock began to chip away at the coral and the pieces flew back at her.

Her crude weapon instantly tumbled from her clawed fingers as she shrieked in pain sending a stream of bubbles up to the surface. Twisting frantically around, the mer clawed at the burning coral trying to dislodge it from her skin. She flung herself down upon the sandy bottom and writhed across the grit and pebbles until she could no longer feel the burning pain.

CLICK! CLICK!

The merchild frowned, baring its jagged teeth, at the crab as it sat poised on top of the coral clicking its large pincers at her.

"Kerab no burn!" She whined angrily and grabbed her rock. Then darkness.

She looked at her weapon in surprise and flung it away. The darkness remained. The merchild swam upwards — a shadow was passing through the waters. _Humans_. 

She followed.

A knock. " 'Mione?"

Hermione rested her quill in the inkwell and pushed her chair back so that she could stand. "Yes, come in." As the door opened she pulled the loose wisps of hair behind her ear and straightened her clothes as much as possible.

She motioned for Harry to step inside and moved to close the door behind him. "Hullo Harry."

She watched him walk into the room, then change direction as something on her writing desk caught his eye. Her hands fidgeted nervously and she followed him inside reluctantly. The ship creaked.

"Hermione!" He said in awe. "What _is_ all this?"

He slid stacks of parchments aside; picking up some, glancing at others. He picked up a parchment with a considerable amount of writing on it. Hermione reached for it half-heartedly, but Harry held it out of her reach and she didn't have the strength to fight him.

"Firecrabs, chimaeras, abraxans, manticores -- " He whirled around to face her. "Hermione! These things are _dangerous_."

Hermione's chin raised in defiance. "I am **not** afraid."

"I'm afraid enough for the both of us. What are you planning to do with this list of creatures?!"

"Harry," She said quietly. "We can't fight this war alone..."

He shook the paper violently, "So your going to gather a bunch of _animals_ who'd soon as bite us in the back then help us fight!?"

Hermione grabbed the parchment just as violently and let it flutter down onto the table, "They're NOT animals!" She hissed vehemently. "_I_ have faith in the good of this world -- they WILL fight."

Harry grabbed her and crushed her body against his, one hand held the back of her head, the other clutched to her back. Hermione was startled, "Harry?"

"I'm sorry Hermione." His hand tightened on her back. "I just came in here and started yelling at you...you don't deserve this."

She smiled into the thin fabric of his T-shirt. Her arms crept around his back and she hugged him back. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Harry. I know you care and you're worried, but don't be --"

She raised her head and smiled up at him. "--I can take care of myself." One of her hands touched his cheek. He pulled it away.

"No...you _can't_!" He held her hands in his looking down into her shocked and confused face. "Not after what you've been through!"

"What--"

"You haven't been sleeping, Hermione." She stepped back. "Don't think I haven't been noticing."

"I'm not tired, Harry." She told him forcefully. "Besides, there's so much work to be done..."

He grabbed a fistful of papers from her desk and waved them around. "Battle plans and maps?!"

Hermione rubbed her face distractedly.

"It's been two days Hermione! You haven't even closed your eyes!"

Hermoine pressed a hand to her chest; her breathing was suddenly ragged. "_I can't do it, Harry._" She breathed. Her legs began to tremble and she fell forward onto her bedside table; the inkwell rattled. "I can't sleep...I _can't_..."

She looked up at him and her wide, amber eyes were glowing with fear. "Every time I close my eyes...I can see _Her_. She's _laughing_ at me." She whined piteously. "It's so cold...Eyes..._always_ watching..." Her voice died down into a whimper, then, "I'm naked in the dark! If I close my eyes -- She'll find me. SHE'LL **_TAKE_** ME!"

Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her 'til her head rattled. "Hermione!" He grabbed her face in both hands and held it firmly; her eyes drifted away. "Look at me! Look at ME!" He demanded. Hermione quaked and did as she was told.

"I. _Will. Not._ Let. Them. Take. You." He told her. "Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded into his hands -- she looked ready to cry. Harry pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. She fell into his strong and warm embrace. Against the comforting scratch of Harry's T-shirt, Hermione let loose a single tear; feeling it sink into the cotton fabric and disappear.

Harry's grip loosened allowing Hermione to step back and she turned to look out the window. She turned back to Harry with dry eyes, "We're here."

Harry glanced out the window, "This isn't Hogwarts' lake."

"Of course not. That's still miles off." Hermione reminded him as she slipped on her black robes. She sounded just like her old superior self. Harry smiled.

"Then where are we?" As if in response the ship lurched slightly and then stopped moving completely. They'd dropped anchor.

Hermione opened her door and stepped into the hall, "We're directly below the Ministry of Magic.

Kylee Rookwood stifled a yawn and scratched her itching wrist. Taking a sip of her now lukewarm coffee she looked up at the clock and groaned. 1:13 -- Her fourth graveyard shift in a row; she was probably the only person there. 

She glanced down at the pile of parchments yet to be read and filed away before she was able to leave. God! Muggle Artifacts sure was a boring department.

Wood creaked in the hallway outside her office and her ears perked up. She set down her coffee and turned silently in her swivel chair to look at her light, wooden door. She waited. The sound did not repeat itself.

"All these late nights are getting to me." She'd just turned back to her work when her door was flung open with a bang.

The first to enter was nothing more than a rush of blue; then two boys and a blonde girl. Kylee grabbed her wand from her desk and turned back around to find herself at the receiving end of three other wands.

"What the hell--"

A glint of metal and a sudden refraction of the lamplight temporarily blinded Kylee. When she was able to open her eyes She was there.

Completely beautiful and entirely terrifying. An athletic and deadly body hidden beneath simple clothes; a wild mane of rich curls masking the frightening power in her eyes. Her grip tightened on the massive sword she held in her hand. Closing her eyes to block out Kylee's scared face she lifted the blade above her head and swung it at the woman's frozen body.

Wood clattered to the marble floor

The swordmaiden slowly opened her eyes and turned haunting, glowing amber orbs on her captive. Kylee withered under her gaze and looked down at the floor in relief. The two pieces of her wand rolled across the smooth floor and disappeared under her desk.

"Postvorta." The swordmaiden ordered.

From behind her a wave of water engulfed Kylee, and the next thing she knew her feet and wrists were bound by swirling rings of water. She struggled against her bonds, but found her efforts only succeeded in making her constraints tighten.

"What do you want with me?"

"You're asking the wrong questions." The girl answered. "You were going to kill me four nights ago."

Kylee's eyes widened as realization dawned on her. "_You!_" 

The girl smiled.

Kylee began to laugh. "What are you going to do to me, O Pure-hearted One? Are you going to kill me?'

The girl's smile never faltered. "I may not yet be able to kill you in cold blood; as you would have done to me, but you cannot be allowed to live. I will wipe the world clean of your impurity."

"I'm _shaking_," Her words dripped with sarcasm. Her next words were silenced as the breath was knocked from her lungs. Another water ring had seized her around the torso and as it flung her back into her chair it melded into the seat, widening so that there was no chance of her escape.

The blue blur appeared before her eyes again, and this time she recognized the shape as that owned by water nymphs. The sprite sighed softly and Kylee's bindings hardened into thick rings of ice.

Then, the blonde girl stepped forward and set down a small, rectangular box a few inches away from Kylee's feet. Thick, red numerals counted steadily back from five minutes.

Kylee glanced down at it, "I am in "time out"?" She snickered.

"You could call it that." The girl said -- her voice held a note of sadness. "_Sine sensus_"

The icy coldness of her restraints disappeared, and for a moment she foolishly hoped that she'd been freed. But when she looked down she found herself still anchored to her chair.

"I've shut down your nerve endings." The girl told her. "You'll be mercifully unable to feel anything -- not even pain."

Her stomach clenched. Her eyes dropped down to the box at her feet. "What is that _thing_?"

"It's a Muggle invention..."

Kylee looked up in surprise to see Harry Potter as the one who had spoken. He smiled -- a sinister yet innocent act that made fear finally rise up in the woman.

"They call it a 'bomb'."

The foreign word had no meaning for Kylee, but she felt afraid nonetheless. When she looked up again they were gone.

Reluctantly...hesitantly she looked down at the 'bomb'.

Attached to the top of the 'bomb' was one of the Ministry's visitor badges. It read:

****

HERMIONE GRANGER

__

Mission of Mercy

YAY! Twenty-two is DONE! Mostly in part to the fact that I'm FREE from school for 2 whole weeks. I'm excited, how 'bout you? Well, no I'm off to write my chapter of Stars IIand then maybe I'll get around to Crystalline Revelations; I'm kinda behind on that one.

Much love to Meg, my muse! ("If you like my stories, you'll love hers!") Lol -- inside joke.

KissThis


	23. Dead or Alive?

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Three: Dead or Alive?

Author: KissThis

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Rating: R - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Making their way back into the same vicinity

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

†

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Disclaimer: Maybe J.K. Rowling will give me Harry Potter for a present? I can always hope...

--

A/N: I hope this chapter explains things a bit more for you guys -- just in case I don't get everything worded right: Kylee Rookwood was part of the trap Postvorta warned our heroes about in chapter seventeen.  If you didn't notice, in the first sentence of her description, Kylee "scratched her itching wrist"...clue? The Dark Mark, maybe? I think so...

            "WORMTAIL!" A grating voice barked.

            A cowering and pitiful creature darted out of the shadows as his master bade him.  "Yes, my Lord?" It sniveled.

            "Have you found the girl yet?" Voldemort hissed.  The flames in the hearth popped and crackled, reaching fiery tendrils out across soot covered flagstones.

            The man -- Wormtail -- whimpered and flattened himself against the stone floor in submission.  His grubby face was pressed in terror against the cold slate with eyes squeezed shut; for no man was given such a high honor as to look straight into the Dark Lord's face.

            "Forgive me, your most loyal servant, my Lord.  She seems to have completely disappeared -- none have been able to find her." He crooned.

            "That's not the news I wanted to hear, Wormtail!" The heavily robed figure hissed angrily.

            "_Please_, Master--"

            The miserable wretch's pleas were cut off by a malice-lined word that sent the man's body into pain-filled spasms and convulsions.

            "Your idiotic foul-ups are _unacceptable_, Wormtail.  First you allow my prey to get word of the trap I so carefully laid.  Then you allow her to disappear to plot my defeat **_alive_** and _unhindered_!?" 

            Voldemort rose from his dark and shadowed throne before the haunting fireplace and stalked eerily toward his writhing minion.  "Ever since I brought you back into my service your actions have been **far** from satisfactory."

            Even with a spell filling his every cell with pain, all Wormtail felt as Voldemort's haunting red eyes were turned on him was pure, tangible, unquenchable _fear_.  Voldemort raised his wand again -- undoubtedly to finally end his servant's life -- when a knock on the door stayed his hand.

            "Lord Voldemort!" A feminine voice spoke loudly from the other side. "Urgent news!"

------------------ 12:47 AM ------------------

            "Seamus?"

            The boy jumped at the sudden voice in the darkness.  He scrambled to snuff the small orb of light floating within the hangings of his bed.

            "Y-Yeah?"

            The person in the bed next to him rolled over and looked at him through sleepy eyes.  It was Ron.  "What are you still doing up?"

            Seamus muttered a spell in his thick Irish accent and all the parchments strewn across his bed lifted into the air and rolled themselves up.  "I couldn't sleep." He conceded, stashing the papers safely beneath his bed.

            A heavy sigh from Ron, "You too?"

            "Ever since--" Seamus stopped abruptly; biting his tongue.

            Ron's darkened face was visible even through the weak light of the moon streaming in through the skylight.  All the windows were uncharacteristically darkened.  Ron's eyes closed and he had to clear his throat before he opened them again and spoke.

            "Who knew Hermione was our cure for a good night's sleep?" He jibbed weakly.

            Seamus could only muster a lopsided sort of half-smile.  He knew better than to continue down the path their current conversation was taking -- for both their sakes.  Seamus hesitated a moment, then asked, "Do you mind if I keep a light on? There's something I wanted to finish tonight, and I don't think Sleep will have me yet."

            Ron shifted under his bed sheets and the old wooden frame of his bed squeaked softly in protest. "Knock yourself out." he said, and rolled over.

            Seamus leaned over his bed and grabbed a parchment off the top of the pile and dropped it onto his lap.  Unrolling it as quietly as possible he stretched it out on a thin wooden board and summoned up a small light.  For a time there was only the sound of Seamus incessant quill scratching against the parchment.  Then it stopped.

            "Ron," he whispered. "You still awake, mate?"

            There was a long pause and then the large lump of blankets atop Ron's bed shifted.  Squeak.  "Yeah. Yeah, I'm awake."

            Seamus laid down his quill.  "Do you--" He hesitated.  "Do you think Hermione is still alive?  Harry too?" He added.

            "I _have_ to believe that they're both still alive." Ron answered truthfully.

            "Why?" 

            "Because I haven't let myself think of what I'd do if I lost them."

            _Poor Ron_. Seamus thought. _Everyone knows he fancied Hermione -- except probably Hermione herself -- and Harry was like a brother to him.  There isn't one good memory that doesn't have those three in it._

"What about you, Seamus?" Ron asked turning over to face him. "You think they're alive, don't you?"

            Seamus sighed, "My heart tells me Hermione and Harry are alive; probably on their way to the castle right now.  But...my mind keeps saying that Hermione wouldn't just disappear without telling anyone -- that she would have sent word."

            "Well, Hermione and Harry aren't exactly inconspicuous right now.  They're the bad guys' main targets.  Hermione's smart -- she'll keep them out of Voldemort's sight, she'll keep them safe."

            "They're alive?"

            "They're alive." Ron said firmly.

            The boys shared an understanding smile then Ron turned away and settled back into his blankets.  Seamus, too, moved to go to bed; packing up his parchment and quill.  He had just banished the orb of light when Ron hissed for him to be silent.  Seamus froze halfway through lifting up his covers.

            "What is it?" he whispered back.

            "Do you feel that?

            Seamus gave him a puzzled look.  "Feel what?"

            Ron ignored his question and pushed aside his covers.  Jumping out of bed he walked over to the window and flung the curtains open.  Curious, Seamus climbed out of bed as well and moved to look over Ron's shoulder.

            "Oh God..."

            A thick, charcoal black spiral of smoke was rising up from the horizon into the midnight blue sky.  All the stars across the horizon were blocked by an impenetrable haze, turning the night sky into a haunting and empty tapestry.

            "What was the target?"

            "It looks like London -- or somewhere near it." Ron said quickly, "I need to talk to Dumbledore; find out what's going on."

------------------ 1:30 AM ------------------

            Draco ran into Dumbledore's crowded office followed closely by Ron.  Most of the Order that had been flooed in through the office fireplace were wearing various states of bedclothes, though the urgency of the situation dimmed any sense of modesty.  Only a few looked up at their entrance, and those who did turned quickly back to what they had previously been doing.  Dumbledore ushered them quickly into the room.

            "You're both here.  Good, good." he murmured.

            "We met in the hallway," Draco hurried into the center of the room and accepted the Headmaster's offer of hot tea.  He downed the scalding cup in one gulp and returned the china piece to the silver tray.  "What do we know?"

            Dumbledore's hawk-like blue eyes blinked sharply behind the thin wire frames and glass lenses of his spectacles.  "It was the Ministry building."

            "You're kidding?" Ron exclaimed in shock.

            "I only wish I were, Mister Weasley.  We're fortunate though; the blast was contained to a very small area."

            "Blast?" Draco prodded. "A destruction spell?"

            "That's just it..." Dumbledore admitted, scratching his beard. "We sent a patrol out to the area immediately after the explosion, but they've reported no unusual magical signatures.  There's no traces of any destructive type spell."

            "Well, what caused the explosion then?" Ron queried.

            "Your father, Mr. Weasley, believes it was caused by a muggle device.  He reports that such a blast is not unlike that produced by a weapon they call a 'bomb'."

            "A bomb? So muggles are involved -- terrorists perhaps?" Draco suggested.

            "A plausible theory," Dumbledore conceded. "But I doubt muggles were responsible for this incident."

            "Why not, sir?" Draco prompted. "The muggles are waging a war against terrorism -- it's highly possible that the Ministry was caught in the crossfire."

            "That's just it.  This attack was too focused and deliberate to be considered some random attack on a London building." Dumbledore explained.  "No...someone deliberately placed that bomb -- if indeed that was the weapon used, as Arthur surmises -- and that someone was a wizard."

            Ron spoke up finally, "Were there any casualties?" He asked quietly.

            "We're gathering that information now -- hopefully the attack was unsuccessful." Dumbledore smiled grimly.

            "Sir?" Draco asked softly. "Wasn't Hermione headed for the Ministry of Magic building?"

            Ron made a gagging sound behind him and was hunched over as if about to be sick. "Oh God!" he whispered.

            "Yes, she was." Dumbledore replied.

            Draco couldn't breathe.  It felt as if a hand had reached straight through his skin and grabbed a hold of his throat only to slowly squeeze the breath from him.  Was she dead? Lights danced across his eyes and the edges of his vision were turning black.

            "She was scheduled to leave for Beauxbatons yesterday." Dumbledore continued.

            "Then she's alright!" Ron exclaimed, "She wasn't there when the blast–"

            "Shut up." Draco interrupted harshly.  "Beauxbatons emptied two days ago, you idiot.  She wouldn't have gone on to an empty school."

            Ron was genuinely at a loss, "Then where would she have gone?"

            "She wouldn't have gone anywhere."

            "Then you understand the implications of the situation, Mister Malfoy." Dumbledore said gravely.  Draco nodded. "Without a place to continue on to, it is highly likely that Miss Hermione stayed on at the Ministry while she formed another plan of action.  It is the Order's belief that she was the target of the attack."

            With each heavy word Draco felt as if a knife was stabbing into him.  He wanted to escape from the pain, from the bitter reality, but found he was unable to tear himself away.

            "We have our best people down there – we'll receive word the moment they find anything.  As I said, hopefully the attack was unsuccessful.  If you'll excuse me I must hold conference with Professor Snape."

            "I'll take over from here, Albus." Lupin said walking up to the trio.  The headmaster nodded his thanks and moved off to where Snape and two others were waiting.

            "Hope..." Ron murmured.  He seemed to still be thinking about their previous conversation.  "Hope wouldn't let Hermione die, would She?"

            Draco's head shot up – the Weasel actually had a point.

            Lupin's lips pursed. "As you know, in Hope's current state She cannot exist within our world without a body to inhabit.  During this time of darkness, people no longer believe in the light of Hope or the chance of their salvation.  So, She grows weaker...until She can no longer maintain her position in the hearts of others.  It has happened before; the Christian's Jesus Christ was also Hope's vessel.  History shows that Hope _will do everything in her power to keep Hermione, her host, alive."_

            "But Jesus was crucified." Draco reminded him.

            "Ah, yes.  But in dying, Hope was restored; for he rose again." Lupin explained.

            "Do you think..."

            "That that is the case with Hermione? No...for I feel no hope now at the thought of her death.  But as to every situation there is more than one side.  Two things gnaw at me and fill my heart with doubt; the first being that no one can stop the Fates once they decide a person's life is over.  If now is Hermione's time, then nothing will change that."

            "The Fates?" Ron questioned. "What do three Greek women from myth have to do with Hermione?"

            Lupin smiled patiently. "They are no myth.  Like the tale of Pandora's Box, the Fates were turned from truth into a legend; a story told to children when no explanation for death can be found.  Even those from where the myth was real; now see it as little more than an old wife's tale." 

            He paused in his narrative to pour himself a cup of tea, now only lukewarm.  Professor Lupin never ceased to cause Draco wonderment.  Even after several members of the Order had fought with the Ministry to revoke the anti-werewolf acts, and Lupin had landed a secure job as an ambassador to the wizarding schools for the Ministry he never let his newfound wealth get to him.  His robes were still tattered and torn, with more patches than a quilt and looking as if three robes had been sewn into one.  

            Draco could never understand why he didn't use the money he had to improve his state of attire.  The money couldn't just be sitting around, could it? And what would he spend it on if not himself.  Professor Lupin was certainly an interesting character.  

            Ron and Draco both sat down in chairs that they pulled from in front of Dumbledore's desk and waited for Lupin to continue.

            "As their name suggests, the Fates were goddesses who supervised fate in Greek mythology. The ancient Greeks referred to these goddesses collectively as _Moirai."_

            "The Fates are three sisters: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropus. They sing in unison with the music of the Sirens, or so it is said. Lachesis sings of the things that were, Clotho of those that are, and Atropus about the things that will be. They are most honored among the gods because they are just and fair. They give men at their birth their share of evil and good, and they punish the transgressions of both men and of gods."

            "So they were real?"

            "Were…and _are_." Lupin answered. "They are goddesses, immortal, and so they cannot die, at least by conventional methods.  They have existed for countless ages and will continue to live on unto the ending of this world."

            Draco was silent for a moment, "Go on, Professor."

            Lupin smiled. "The Fates came to be identified as a crone, a mother, and a maiden – representing each phase in existence - who handled the threads of human life. One of these threads was allocated to every person, and each goddess took her turn in manipulating this thread. Clotho selected the thread, Lachesis measured it, and Atropus cut this thread to signify the end of a person's life.

            "Fate means mainly death and all circumstances leading to death, given that it does not seem to be any strict predetermination of happenings, except the unavoidable departure from this world, which is the ultimate and inescapable destiny of all living beings. This is why the _Moirai have been called mighty, compelling, or overwhelming; and what they have spun concerning the limits of life is conclusive and final in all cases. And although it appears that a man may die before his time, it does not seem likely that he could go on living beyond the time allotted to him by these three sisters, or violate in any way what is meant to be his own personal fate."_

            "For example, there are many times in one's life when they are given the choice to either die...or live – near death experiences, one might call them.  It is not a simple choice.  Some may wish to die, others to weak to carry on.  For if the person wishes to live, they must FIGHT for it.  This may be one of those occurrences, and if so then Hermione is most certainly still alive.  She's a fighter and she feels a strong sense of duty to her new status in life.  However, if she has reached her time to die…then there is nothing anyone can do to save her."

            "Professor," Ron started. "I still don't see how you can know that these Fates still exist."

            Lupin chuckled, "As surely as I know that you are you, and that I am myself.  For without the Fates there would be no Time.  Everything would be as it is; always the same, never changing.  No one would die, and no one would ever be born.  For without Time there can be no life or death."

            "What was the second thing."

            Lupin looked up from his tea in surprise, "What was that, Draco."

            Draco's fingers clenched into fists at his sides, "You said there were two things...you've only told us one – what was the second thing."

            Lupin slowly set his cup back upon its saucer, with a soft clinking sound and looked morosely at his students.  "As I said, Hope will do everything she can to keep Hermione alive...I just don't know if it's in Her power to save her..."

------------------ 1:58 AM ------------------

            A loud screech jolted Draco from the uneasy sleep he'd almost fallen into, and he jumped up from his chair as an exceptionally fast owl shot through the open window.  It circled once to slow its velocity then came rocketing down to land on Dumbledore's outstretched arm.  Draco winced as the owl's talons dug sharply into the thin material of his headmaster's bed robes, but the older man seemed unaffected.

            The room waited with bated breath as Dumbledore removed the message from the owl's offered leg.  Without waiting to be fed, it let out another screech and took off out the window.   Dumbledore slid off the binding ribbon and unrolled the small piece of parchment.  He read it aloud.

            _Attacker still unknown._

_            Device still unknown._

_            Casualties still unknown._

_            New information regarding the contained area of the explosion: It seems that the attack was directed at a certain person and/or group.  High traces of a Shielding Charm have been found around the destroyed edges of the building adding to the theory that a target existed.  Voldemort is no longer a suspect._

**Shacklebolt, Kingsley -- ****1:35 AM******

            "Oh, dear." Mrs. Weasley murmured.

            "What suspects are left, Albus?" Diggory asked.

            Dumbledore let out a weary sigh.  "The Shielding Charm is the eliminator.  Its very existence denies the remote possibility that it was still a muggle attack.  It also proves that this was no attack by Voldemort's forces.  They care nothing for others, most prominently the Ministry and Hogwarts, and wouldn't have set up such a containment spell.  They survive on chaos and death; they would have reveled in the bomb's destruction."

            "Who else is there?!" Tonks exclaimed in frustration.

            "A third party -- 'who' is anyways guess." Fred said.

            "Maybe someone who wants this war started **now**?" George added.

            "But _who_?" Remus voiced. "Who would gain from an early start to the war?"

            Dumbledore raised his hands high above his head and the worried voices died.  "Let's not panic.  We are in constant correspondence with the team at the Ministry.  I am confidant that everything will sort itself out in time."

            "Time's one thing we don't have, Albus." Severus' voice was firm.

            Just then the fireplace exploded! Giant bursts of emerald flame leapt out of the grate; burning tendrils licking the stone frame.  And out of the wild mass of writhing flames tumbled a small figure.  Wrapped in a dirty and badly wrinkled tea towel, a house elf came tumbling out of the hearth.  It stood up meekly and coughed several times to clear its lungs.  Its wide eyes darted around the room fearfully and it looked as if it wanted nothing better to do than to disappear...or perhaps clean something.

            "Give the poor creature some space." Dumbledore ordered, and the area around the house elf was immediately cleared.  

            Dumbledore kneeled down in front of the house elf and gave it a kind smile.  The house elf relaxed marginally, and pulled from inside its ragged tea towel a hastily wrapped package and a folded note.  "Master Shacklebolt, sent me with this." It squeaked in terror.  "He told me it was too urgent to be sent by owl.  So Gorby does what Master asks -- Gorby goes through dark hole and is set on fire! FIRE!" It wailed.

            Big, fat tears rolled down Gorby's leaving warped paths through the soot and grime.  He quaked and continued to look around the room for a chance to escape from the eyes boring into him.

            "You were very brave, Gorby." Dumbledore soothed.  "May I see that?"

            He gestured to the items clutched in the house elf's hands and Gorby relinquished them gratefully.  Dumbledore stood and slid the parchment into his robe pocket before deftly removing the generic brown wrapping.  From within the wrapped box, Dumbledore pulled forth a human hand -- severed halfway up the forearm.

Sorry it took ages to get out, but there were several crises.  First I had a break from classes so I spent the time sleeping and watching t.v., then 3 pages of the chapter magically disappeared, and then I couldn't get it to open period.  But now HERE IT IS! Sorry for making you all wait.

KissThis


	24. Brilliant Deduction, Watson!

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Four: Brilliant Deduction, Watson!

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13 - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: There's just so many people with the hots for Hermione, it's hard to tell!

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

†

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Disclaimer: Ooh! It's getting exciting isn't it? You know, if I go back and change the characters, the setting, and the back history I could have an original story! Maybe I'll do it this summer...at least then I'd own it.

--

A/N: I know I said I wasn't going to keep you guys waiting long, but…that pretty much got screwed didn't it? Sorry.  I'm trying my bestest!

~o~O~o~Recap~o~O~o~

            He gestured to the items clutched in the house elf's hands and Gorby relinquished them gratefully. Dumbledore stood and slid the parchment into his robe pocket before deftly removing the generic brown wrapping. From within the wrapped box, Dumbledore pulled forth a human hand -- severed halfway up the forearm.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~

            "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." --T.S. Eliot

            The room erupted in a crescendo of rising voices that drowned out the sound of Ron's retching.  The sound of thirty people talking all at once drowned out _everything_; even the sobering sound of uncontrollable crying.  Draco stumbled away from Ron's hunched form and the stench of his regurgitated dinner.

            Dumbledore stood as still as stone; one of the few gathered who had remained silent.  He held the object delicately in his hand seemingly unfazed by the grotesque delivery.  However, his face was devoid of all color as he looked over the hand with dark eyes.  Then he turned it so that the others could see what he had seen.  An inky, black design was emblazoned on the blue-tinted skin; looking abnormally bright and glossy in contrast to its dead host.  The firelight flickered against the emblem and it seemed to almost move.  The room fell silent.

"The attack was against a Death Eater," He said in a mix of disgust and relief.  "Not Hermione." He placed it back within its wrappings and set it down upon his desk.  Then he pulled from his pocket the letter and unfolded the crumpled parchment.  He read the hastily scrawled words aloud.

_Deceased: Kylee Rookwood, sister of Augustus Rookwood._

_Death Eater, Second Class_

_Working as a spy in the Department of Muggle Artifacts_

_Only casualty._

"Now what?!" Tonks huffed.  "We have no more idea of what's going on than we did before." Dumbledore turned his face away.  Draco followed his gaze and a lump formed in his throat.  

            A small and pitiful Ginny lay crumpled and sobbing against the office doorframe.

            Ron stumbled forward wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ginny! Get out of here!"

            "What's going on...?" Ginny whispered.  She sobbed and struggled to stand, but as her tears left her so did her strength.  When she finally managed to assume an upright position it was only with the support of the sturdy doorframe.  All eyes were on the sudden intrusion, but she cared neither for her interruption nor her appearance.  Contrary to her brother's orders, when she began to move it was forward rather than backward.

            "The ground shook." She whispered. "I watched the Ministry burn..."

            She licked her lips.  They were cracked and swollen from endless crying.  She hadn't stopped since she'd heard the news.  Her eyes were red and puffy, and the constant stream of tears made them blurry; she could hardly see.

            Mrs. Weasley ran forward and caught her youngest before she fell and hurt herself.  Soothing noises rose from the back of her throat as she comforted her daughter. "Hush, baby girl.  Go back to bed darling."

            "No!" Ginny shouted, startling her mother.  She shoved her away and staggered towards Dumbledore.  She only made it a few feet before fatigue took her and she tripped over her own feet; sprawled across the floor.  She was a pitiful wreck.

            "Please!" She sobbed. "I can't stand no knowing."

            "You shouldn't be here, Ginny!" Mr. Weasley insisted. "We'll tell you what we can when the meeting is over."

            Ginny's small fist banged the wooden floor so hard it shook, "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

            Her father jumped back in surprise and the room fell silent.  She raised herself onto her hands and knees; tangled auburn ringlets fell over her face.  "It's not and you know it." She wiped the salty trails from her cheeks and sniffed to stop her nose from running.  She stood up, and looked straight at Dumbledore.

            "Please, sir.  She's my best friend," She begged. "I care about her – I deserve to know what's going on!"

            "Don't let your mouth get ahead of you."  Draco spat at her.  "It's going to get you in trouble."

            Dumbledore cut off Ginny's reply with a wave of his hand.  "You may stay, but I must ask you to watch your tone, Miss Weasley."

            Ginny dropped submissively into a seat and rubbed at her eyes that were already beginning to water again.  Draco turned back to his professors but he could hear no sound coming from their moving mouths.

            Hermione's smiling face appeared in his mind.

            _"I'm going to meet with the Ministry and then I'm off to __France__."_

_            "What's in __France__?"_

_            "A friend."_

_            "If you'll excuse me -- I have an army to start."_

            Beauxbatons

            Krum

            The Ministry building

            Kylee Rookwood

            Draco's eyes went wide as all the little pieces clicked into place.  He jumped up knocking over his chair and drawing the attention of the Order.  Sirius' mouth snapped shut mid-sentence at the sudden interruption.  He turned and glared.

            "The lake!" Draco exclaimed.  He crossed the room in three great strides and tore down the stairs two steps at a time.

            "Don't just stand there!" Ginny exclaimed running for the stairs.  "Let's go!"

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~

            Hermione had just finished changing when there was a knock on her door.  Raking her hair out of her eyes with her fingers, she crossed her cabin and opened the door.

            "Viktor!" She smiled. "Come in."

            She stepped aside so that he could enter and closed the door once he was safely inside.  As he sat down upon the edge of her bed she moved to her desk, where a steaming teapot sat – heated by a small blue flame contained in an old mason jar.

            "What brings you?" She asked lifting the pot up just as it started to whistle.  Methodically, she held down the kettle's lid as she poured the boiling liquid into a matching cup.

            "We are nearly, at Hogywartz." He told her gruffly.

            She set down the teapot and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Oh, really?" She sighed, as she conjured sugar for her tea. "I suppose they've been awfully worried about Harry and I."

            "You did ze right thing." He said. "Your Dumbleydore – he is smart.  He knows that any message you vould have tried to send them vould have endangered you."

            Hermione smiled sadly. "I know, but still...I wish there could have been some way.  Tea?"

            Krum shook his head.  Setting her cup in her hand, she carried it over to her bed and sat down beside Krum.  He watched as she cradled her cup and lifted it to her lips to drink.  His thick brows knitted and he scowled.  

            "Was there something else?" She asked.

            "I vanted to make shure you were alvight." He murmured in his thick Bulgarian accent.

            Hermione looked over at him in surprise, but he was looking down at his hands.  "Thank you for worrying about me, but I'm fine really."

            She was startled when he took her hand, but his touch was gentle though Hermione had seen the calluses his hands bore from countless Quidditch matches.  He turned her palm upwards and lifted it closer to his face to examine it.  His fingers traced the raised lines across her palm and fingers, leaving no wound un-noticed.

            "Do ze still 'urt?" He asked.

            Warmth was rising to Hermione's cheeks, whether due to their proximity or because of the way he was caressing her she didn't care to think about.  Either way, she turned her face slightly to catch the concealing shadows of the bed's frame and to breathe in cool air.

            "Not anymore." She insisted.  "The slight swelling should go away in a few days, and by then I'll have several unattractive scars to show off."

            He chuckled, "You are very funny, Herm-own-ninny."

            He turned her hand and, as it caught the light, the yellowy purple bruises across her fingertips were visible.  "You should be vesting your hands." He told her. "At least until zes bruises heal.  You're only aggravating your injur-ee."

            Hermione smiled, "You should know me enough by now – no injury could ever keep me from getting some work done." 

            She lifted her other hand up to the light and grimaced slightly at the offcoloredness of her hands, "Besides...breaking out of your own mind? – that's got to be worth some souvenirs, right?"

            "Herm-own-ninny," He said solemnly, breaking the comic atmosphere of her joke.  "I also vanted to know how you ver feeling after zis morning."

            Hermione's hand dropped back into her lap.  She didn't meet his gaze.  Instead, she chose to fixate her attention on the books stacked up against her desk.  "I've never killed a person before." She whispered.

            She began to recite the book titles in her head, trying, if only for a little while, to keep herself from losing control of her emotions.

            _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_            The Monster Book of Monsters_

            "I mean, I know now that Hope killed those two Death Eaters; Harry told me, but  I've never murdered anyone when I've been in control of my own body."

            _Dreadful Denizens of the Deep_

_            Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_

            "I don't feel like myself anymore – there's no way I can go back to what I was before I took that woman's life, don't you see?"

            "She vas going to kill you furst, Herm-own-ninny." Krum said, "It was 'kill or be killed' as you say it."

            "But that doesn't make it right!" Hermione exclaimed.  "Who am I to say that her life is over because she threatened mine?"

            _Where There's A Wand, There's __A Way___

_            Magical Drafts and Potions_

            "Ve must all do vant ve can to survive – it iz vhat makes us human."

            Hermione jumped up and shouted at him, "Then maybe I don't want to be human!"

            He said nothing.  He looked up at her with understanding eyes, and waited for her to pull herself together.  He did not rise to her verbal aggression.

            "Then again," She whispered. "I'm not really human, am I? Not with this thing inside of me..."

Finally he spoke.  "I know vat your going through is hard to cope vith, I understand.  But it vill not be the last life lost in zis war.  Zis feeling you have...it _vill fade."_

            Hermione turned back to her books; there were no more left to recite, and without the distraction her mind made way for her heart and the tears began to fall down her cheeks.  "No it won't." She whispered through tear-slicked lips.  The spines of the books blurred in her vision and she didn't bother blinking the tears from her eyes. 

            "I'll never forget her face..." She laughed; a morose and pitiful sound.  "...she didn't know what was happening, but she was scared all the same.  She looked up at me...with that terrified face – _begging_ to know what was going to happen to her – and I..._I just walked away_." She shook her head. "I will **never forget her face."**

            She closed her eyes.  "And until the day I die – I'll hear her..._screaming."_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~

            It was certainly an odd procession if anyone happened to see it – several dozen wizards and witches, renowned in their own separate ways, chasing after several teenagers wearing nothing more than their various bed attires.

            Ginny caught up with Draco as he flung open the entrance doors and they ran, side by side, out onto the starlit grounds.

            "What is it, Draco?" The chilly September night air made her breath come in puffs of fog.

            "Trust me." He skidded to a stop on the dew-covered water bank, and stared anxiously out across the lake.  "It's the 25th – she's coming back."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~

Seamus sighed, and though he was not tired he reached up reflexively to rub at his eyes.  Setting his quill down up his comforter he lifted up the topmost parchment and held it close to the light.  The wet ink glistened under the artificial illumination.

            His eyes followed the sweeping lines of his creation.  Up the flowing gown, down one arm and up the other; finally resting on an angelic face framed by gossamer wings.  The drawing of his sister seemed to move under his gaze, and her smiling face looked straight up at him.

He blew lightly on the ink to dry it.  As he started to roll the picture up, his eyes fell onto the parchment beneath it.  It was the paper he had been doodling on before the explosion to the south.

Hermione's laughing face looked up at him.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~

"Mister Malfoy—" Dumbledore puffed slightly as he regained his breath.

            "Don't you get it?" Draco asked excitedly. "Everything's been one big puzzle – we just didn't think to put the pieces together.  First, they never arrived at the Ministry.  That's because Hermione went straight to Beauxbaton's.  Then, Beauxbaton's and Durmstrang emptied.  But they weren't fleeing -- they were joining up with Hermione."

            He pointed out across the lake, "And then Kylee Rookwood was murdered." He turned his finger on Dumbledore.  "Her hand was tinted blue, which only occurs when a person's body is exposed to the cold – like water or ice."

            "Postvorta!" Ginny exclaimed.

            "Postvorta," Draco repeated.  "And the nymph is never far from Hermione's side.  Hermione and Harry both grew up with muggles and, since neither of them are able to kill another human being, they knew a muggle bomb would be the perfect solution.  Rookwood was the only one in the Department at the time of the attack and Hermione set up the shielding charm to keep the blast from reaching the innocents."

            "But the lake?" McGonagall puffed.

            "The lake." Draco repeated.

            Screeching filled the air.  Draco turned back to the lake to find a tiny merchild bobbing above the surface.  It's tangled aquamarine hair clung to it's translucent face and its screams came out in great gusts of foggy breath as it repeated the same jumbled words over and over again.

            "What's it saying?" Amos asked.

            Dumbledore turned and looked at Draco with a calculation gaze.  He took off his half-moon spectacles and methodically cleaned the lenses with the heavy sleeve of his bath robe.  He cleared his throat and looked up at the Head Boy once again. 

            Draco smirked.  _Dumbledore knew._

            The Headmaster smiled and the twinkle was back in his wizened blue eyes as he repeated the merchild's screeches in words the company would understand.

            "They come.  They come."

Read and Review – and tell your friends!!!

KissThis


	25. The Voice Within

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Five: The Voice Within

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13 - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: *giggles*

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: Let's see…what could I trade for Harry Potter…well there's – wait no…umm…hey! I bet my soul might be worth somethin'!

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A/N: Wow, this one took forever for me to get started on.  Just didn't really have any umph or urge to get cracking at it right away, but I guess I finally got over it Sorry – I don't mean to deprive you, luvs.

"Let every dawn be to you as the beginning of life, and every setting sun be to you as its close." (John Ruskin) 

Hermione sat on her bed for a long time after Krum left, just staring out the ship's window.  All manners of creatures past by, but Hermione paid them no mind and nothing more than a cursory glance.  The tears had stopped falling quickly enough, but the feelings behind them were embedded within Hermione.  As she rested her chin upon her sticky hands and felt the dampness in the sleeves of her blouse she knew a change of dress would be in order if she wanted to look presentable.  But, really, her appearance was far from her immediate train of thought.

Dragging herself morosely from the bed's edge, upon which she had fallen into her reverie, she moved to stand before the window and pressed her forehead against the glass.  She exhaled slowly and her hot breathe against the pane turned to fog, blocking out the creatures that followed the ship in primitive curiosity.

Hermione closed her eyes and turned away from her hidden reflection.  Falling back against the wall, she didn't even flinch as the temperature in the room dropped several degrees and a wooshing sound filled the air.

"Sovereign." The nymph monotoned in greeting.

"Hello, Postvorta." Hermione replied half-heartedly.  Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed as her stomach leapt into the back of her throat.

Cold hands on her shoulders propelled her forward and away from her steady support.  She opened her eyes and allowed Postvorta to lead her to the vanity like a small child.  Lifting her face she looked into the haunted amber eyes that stared back at her.

"You cannot arrive like this, Sovereign." Postvorta declared. "It is not befitting your status."

Normally, Hermione would have argued about Postvorta raising her up on a pedestal which she never want to be on in the first place, but she couldn't summon the mental strength.  Icy fingers followed the strands of her hair to where it remained confined within a loose braid.  Hermione refused to allow the nymph to demean herself to a servant-like status when she was with Hermione.  She opened her mouth, but her stomach writhed and she could not find the words that could stop the determined hands of the nymph.

As deft fingers unwound her twisted strands of hair Hermione turned back to the mirror.  Postvorta released her cinnamon locks and the curtain of hair fell down around her face and shoulders.  Her hands twitched in her lap.  She lifted up a hand to stroke the cool face of her reflection; hypnotized by the wonder in front of her.

The innocent seventeen year old was gone.  She was looking into the face of a killer.

Her hand dropped to the vanity table, making the bottles and containers on its surface rattle.  She couldn't bear to look at the image of what she had become.  She was drained and hollow, feeling worse than she had _before_ her conversation with Krum.  Talking about her problem hadn't helped in the slightest and its effect left her prone and open.  Her thoughts drifted back to Kylee and her resolve began to crumble, however, the persistent lurching in her stomach forced her to focus on Postvorta's cool touch across her hair.

If she weakened...Hope would take her again.

Hermione choked down the fear threatening to rise in her at the mere thought of becoming imprisoned once again.  Her eyes flickered and the mirror shimmered at the sudden light.  She felt the walls going up in her mind as she sealed away the painful memory of Kylee Rookwood.  The brick-and-mortar walls blocked the traumatic images from Hermione's mind, but it wasn't until a fourth magical barrier formed around the memory that she could no longer hear her screams.

**You can't hide from your memories forever**_..._ A voice whispered in her mind.  **More and more lives will be lost – would you block them as well? Death gravitates towards your destructive power.  It. Will. _Never_. Stop.**

_I hold no delusions towards my fate..._

**Then you better find a way to deal with the lives you steal.  One day they'll break free and bury you beneath their screams…**

            _Go away!_ Hermione demanded.  She thought she heard the apparition chuckle, and then, surprisingly, it faded away.  Probably to prowl and probe the other corners of her mind, she muttered silently.  The rhythmic patterns of Postvorta's fingers through her hair distracted her from her own inner turmoil and the contemplation of her inner voices.  When she was a small child she'd always loved for her hair to be played with, and as the years passed the action had continued to comfort her.

            "I am finished." Postvorta told her.  Her fingers continued to stroke Hermione's long silky hair.  Hermione's saffron eyes lifted to view the nymph's handiwork.  She smiled.  Waves of loose curls tumbled over her shoulders, bouncing against the curve of her neck.

            "Thank you, Postvorta." Hermione told her with a smile.  "I should change.  We'll be at Hogwarts any minute."

            She stood up from her vanity chair and Postvorta grudgingly extricated her watery hands from Hermione's curls.  The nymph floated back and forth through the air lazily as Hermione darted behind the ornate, Indian changing screen spread across the corner of her room.  Moments later, her tear-stained blouse was flung over top of one of the screen panels.  The only sound was the rustling of cloth as Hermione changed.

"Not the yellow." Postvorta said.

            Hermione cursed through a mouthful of cloth and the sound of fabric hitting the wall followed quickly after.  As if the changing screen weren't even there, Postvorta seemed to know Hermione's every move.  "The green neither.  Black."

            Hermione picked up the requested article and tugged it over her head, taking great care not to ruin Postvorta's careful work upon her hair.  The black satin-like material reached just over her shoulders, like a t-shirt, before giving way to unnecessarily long black sleeves of fishnet gauze.  The cuff was wide and the slits reaching to her elbow gave her a more free use of her limbs.  The artistic top went well with her darkened jeans and chunky, black, heeled sandals.

            When Hermione emerged from behind the screen, Postvorta was gone.

            Picking up her wand from where she'd earlier discarded it beneath her bed; she set about gathering her things together from her comfortable perch atop her bedpillow.  A murmured incantation and the old bristled broom leapt from its cobwebbed corner and, after months of disuse, danced lively across the wooden floor.  Hermione laughed as the ancient broom bowed to her as it passed, shuffling more dust into an ever growing pile in the middle of the room.

            "Come on; bucket, mop!" She coaxed.  With a wave of her wand the mop jumped from its resting place inside the wooden bucket as its former bed was suddenly filled with icy water.  The bucket wiggled and bounced into the middle of the room followed, less enthusiastically, by its counterpart.  As it passed her, the mop shook its handle at her resentfully; much like a person would shake an angry fist, before jumping into the water-laden bucket.

            Hermione laughed gaily, and clapped her hands in child-like amusement at the antics of her cleaners.  The broom lifted into the air with a faint sparkle of golden stars and wrung itself out over the bucket, who only managed to stay put for a short time before resuming its bouncing trail across the room.  The mop's handle shook again and it swooped down to clean up the wrung out water that had missed the antsy bucket.

            The bucket bobbled around the broom guarding its pile of dirt protectively, as water sloshed out of the bumbling bucket.  The mop chased its partner around, having to stop every few feet to clean up the spills, but when it finally caught up to the wayward bucket the mop gave it a swift kick and hard smack with its long handle.  The bucket immediately rattled to a stop and allowed the mop to re-wet itself and begin washing the floor.  The mop sashayed back and forth leaving a thin layer of quickly drying water.  It bumped into the broom making it jump and quickly begin sweeping its hard-made pile of debris away from the treacherous mop.

            Hermione's giggles only spurred the terrified broom on.  It speed up its frantic sweeping and ran smack dab into the bucket making it quiver dangerously.  The broom jumped and struggled to cover the dust from the threat of splashed water.  Hermione, taking pity on the old broom's distress pointed her wand at its heavily guarded treasure.  The pile disappeared with a crackle and the broom seemed to sag in relief.

            "Well done, broom." She thanked it politely. "Now back to the corner, please."

            The broom shuffled back to its corner, now devoid of its earlier arachnid weavings, and settle comfortably back into its nook.  Hermione murmured the proper incantation under her breath and the magic that had served to animate the wooden broom disappeared, leaving the broom an ordinary inert object.

            She turned back to the room to find that the bucket, growing bored with its forced immobility, had returned to its careless trek around the cabin; much to the mop's annoyance, as it now had to chase down the bucket each time it needed to rewet itself.  Sparing the poor disgruntled mop a sympathetic look she turned back to what remained to be done.

            "Oh, no. This bed won't do." She muttered to herself.  With a wave and a tap of her wand the pillow beneath her rose into the air.  Pulling her legs into a cross-legged position atop the levitating cushion, she re-situated herself and lifted her wand.  A sweeping wave of her hand lifted the comforter up off her bed.  Invisible hands worked to untangle the mass of fabric even as her wand directed her sheets up into the air.

            She sighed softly and an unseen wind swept up her covers twisting them in blurred patterns unable to be followed by the human eye.  Her wand tip bobbed and the wind dropped away.  Her sheets flung themselves higher and snapped loudly as the magic pulled them straight.  With another flick of her wand she left her sheets to drift lazily back down upon her bed and turned to other tasks.

            The magically-levitated cushion drifted into the middle of the room, and Hermione laughed to see the mop nervously slide out from underneath her shadow.  As her wand hand finished making her bed her left snapped its fingers at the opposite end of the room.  In response, the changing screen rattled and folded shut with an audible bang revealing the piles of clothes it had been shielding from view.

            Hermione's disgusted face was matched with a 'tsk'ing sound at her poor habits.  "Back to the suitcases," she decided, turning her wand on the heaps of clothes.  Golden dust drifted down atop the objects lifting them up into the air, and as the magic dust brought her clothes to life she aimed her wand at the suitcases stacked against the wall.  A murmured summoning spell sent the suitcases toppling onto the floor and caused them to slide across the still-slick wood coming to a stop beneath Hermione's floating throne.

            Clicking her tongue against her teeth, the clasps on her bags clicked and undid themselves only seconds before she let out a long hiss of breath; the suitcases unzipped.  She flicked her wand forward and the lids flipped open -- just in time.  The clothes she had left on their own had begun to dance around her in a large and humorous looking circle.  But as she looked up to see a pair of her negligee go spinning around her she decided it wasn't _that_ funny.

            She snapped her fingers again to draw her clothes' attention and pointed it down at the waiting suitcases impatiently.  Obligingly, her cashmere sweater broke off from the merry-go-round and floated bouncily downwards, trailing the rest of her clothing behind it.  Each folded themselves neatly before packing each piece into their own respective baggage.

            Suddenly, her bedroom door opened and she was mildly surprised to see Harry step inside.  His wide emerald eyes took in the bed neatly tucking the corners of its sheets under, the mop chasing after a runaway bucket, the swirling hurricane of silk and cotton that surrounded Hermione's _levitating_ form and his eyebrows shot up.

            "Hermione?" He voiced in disbelief.  "What's going on?"

            "Just tidying up." Hermione replied, her voice innocent.

            "I can see that." 

He muttered something about 'crazy women' and stepped into the room.  The mop went nuts.

            It flung itself at Harry, giving the startled boy a face full of water.  It then proceeded to knock its handle painfully against Harry's shins until he stumbled back out into the hallway.  Quivering with outrage the mop flicked one last spurt of water at the baffled Gryffindor before it bustled over to clean up Harry's unintended footprints.

            Harry looked up at Hermione, who was practically beside herself with laughter, his mouth flapping like a fish.  "You're mop is insane!" He shouted.

            Hermione managed to subdue her mirth.  "I have noticed it's a bit resentful, yes." She teased.  "You shouldn't act so surprised – coming in her with your shoes on!"

            Harry grumbled and pushed the errant bangs from his eyes, "It wasn't intentional.  It's not like I was _trying_ to mess up the floor." 

            He took a step towards the doorway but was instantly intercepted by the mop.  It poked him in the stomach and barred his way looking ready to pounce on its antagonizer.

            "Stop mop!" Hermione ordered, pointing her wand at the cleaner.  The mop ceased its threatening gestures and fell lifelessly to the floor.  Harry let out a sigh of relief before turning an annoyed look at Hermione, innocently dangling her legs in the air.

            "And you couldn't have cast a simple cleaning spell, _why_?" He asked, kicking off his tennis shoes and stepping inside.  She shrugged.

            "More fun this way." She told him in a cheeky tone. "Besides I haven't done magic for days.  I thought I'd practice and get back into the swing of things."

            "Only you, Hermione." He said through a chuckle.  He walked over to her and smiled up at her levitating form.  Reaching up, he grabbed a hold of her cushion and pulled her down to eye-level.

            She nudged him in the knee with her toe, "What did you need?"

            "I met up with Postvorta as I was leaving the Galley – she said we're nearly there.  Krum confirmed it."

            Hermione nodded.  A wavy lock of cinnamon dropped over her shoulder. "So I heard."

            He quirked his eyebrow and took another survey of the room as the various magical tasks completed themselves.  "That explains why you've got an entire re-enactment of Fantasia going on in your cabin."

            Hermione growled and nudged him a little harder.  Harry just laughed, not her planned reaction, and batted her bare foot away.  Well, since he didn't seem to mind, she began swinging her legs back and forth like a little girl on a swing.  Every time her legs came forward, her feet would knock against his knees and thighs.

            He just laughed louder.  Hermione assumed it was like Chinese water torture and he'd crack, eventually.

            "And how does this involve you _floating_, Miss Granger?" He asked coyly.

            Hermione gave him a withering look that made him feel like he _should_ know the reason.  She let out a deep sigh of exasperation as if the answer was _painfully_ obvious.  "The floor was being moped, and I couldn't very well make my bed while I was sitting on it, now could I?" She told him in a condescending manor.

            He rolled his eyes, "Of course." He muttered sarcastically.  "That was the first thing that popped into my mind when I saw you floating on a blooming pillow!"

            Hermione laughed and leaned forward to ruffle his raven locks playfully.  "Watch your mouth, smart ass." She admonished.  "I'm still a prefect ya know, I'll knock your head around so hard house points will start falling out!"

            "But you won't 'cuz you love me, right?" he teased.

            "You wish," she snorted.  Her feet thunked against his leg.  He pouted up at her crossing his arms over her knees and resting his chin upon them.  Her knees were now digging rather uncomfortably, she imagined, into his chest, and his now-slouched form left her swinging feet hitting thin air.  Harry closed his eyes looking, for all the world, as if he was about to take a nap.  A comfortable, if awkward _looking_, silence settled over the pair as Hermione finished orchestrating her clothes and refastened her suitcases.

            "Harry," Hermione said.  Silence broken, she dropped her hands into her lap.

            "Yeah?" He murmured without opening his eyes.

            "I just wanted to thank you for the other day.  Not many people would stand up to a deity to save their stupid friend who got themselves caught in the first place."

            Harry chuckled; a vibration making her legs hum.  "First of all, you're anything _but_ stupid.  Secondly, if they won't do all that they can to save you they shouldn't call themselves your 'friends'."

            She brushed the bangs back from his forehead and smiled softly, "Thank you, Harry." She murmured.

            Harry smiled as her fingers grazed his hairline; it seemed Harry liked for his hair to be stroked as well.

            "What choice did I have?" He asked, trying to be serious.  "It would have been rude to let you go without saying goodbye!"

            Hermione's entangled fingers found a lock of hair and tugged.  _Hard._  Harry let out a yelp of surprise and pain.

            "Oh, is that the only reason?" She demanded.

            He lifted up one of his arms and swatted away at her buried hand.  He growled and was rewarded with the release of his hair.  "Ow, woman!" He exclaimed rubbing his head.  Glancing up at Hermione, he smiled weakly at her stony stare.  "Uh, _I love you_?"

            She snorted, "Who doesn't?!"  She flicked his bangs back again and after a moment tapped the faint, characteristic scar on his forehead.  "Of course, I do have a friend a little different than most."

            He drummed his fingers in a rhythmic pattern across her leg, "Yeah, I'm like _Super_Harry!"

            He jumped – Hermione's sudden and boisterous laughter ringing in his ears.  "SuperHarry?!" She managed to sputter.  "_That's_ a manly name..."

            "Don't get too attached," He muttered lifting his head, "It was a spur of the moment thing."

            "I understand." Hermione insisted, punctuated by a solemn nod.  She patted his cheek and, without cracking a smile said: "Do you want me to get you some tights?"

            The glare Harry turned on her could make and acromantula scurry away in fright, but on Hermione it only made her laugh harder than before.

            "No." He said forcefully.

            She covered her mouth and placed the hand still holding her wand to her chest.  "No? What about...a _cape_?"

            Harry's face softened and took on a thoughtful expression.  "Maybe," He conceded.  "A **nice** one."

            Hermione's swinging feet connected with Harry's legs as he shifted positions in front of her pillow. "Ok, we'll hook SuperHarry up with a hot new cape." She promised faithfully.

            Harry chuckled lightly and absently pulled a loose string from the side seam of Hermione's jeans.  "We've been friends for a while now, right?"

            "Yes, almost six years now," She tucked her hair behind her ears.  "Though, I've heard so many stories and seen all your pictures that it's almost as if I've known you since you were diapers."

            Harry laughed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, "Yeah..." He agreed.  "And I've had to put up with you just as long!"

            Hermione smacked him upside the head, "Ha. Ha.  You are oh-so-witty, Harry James Potter." Was her sarcastic reply.

            The face Harry made was reward enough; like he'd just stepped in something foul. "The full name?" He groaned, eliciting a small smile from his companion.

            "Come on, 'Mione! You _know_ I **hate** it when you call me that."

            She smiled sweetly, "I know."

            "That was a low card to play..." He tried his luck at a pout once more, and this time Hermione relented to it; ruffling his hair.

            "We have been through a lot together, haven't we..." She mused – thinking back on their earlier strain of conversation.

            He dragged a fingernail across the tough denim encasing her legs and created the desired scratching sound, "Yeah, sure have."

            "_Yes_," She scolded.  "Yes, not _yeah_." She told him, with the last word sounding bitter in her mouth.  "And don't get me started on the poor grammar the rest of your sentence is filled with."

            Harry's expression was weary, but lined with amusement, "Some things never change." He said smiling up at her.

            "Like me?" She questioned – intrigued by Harry's claim.

            "Like _us_."

            Hermione's eyes glowed softly and Harry wondered what she was feeling.  Then she laughed, "I don't think we'll _ever_ change."

            Harry's questioning face showed nothing of what was running through his mind.  The words echoed in his ears.  Emerald eyes, shining with curiosity, looked up at Hermione from her own lap.

            "You don't think we'll _ever_ change?"

            Hermione missed the tone of his voice and mistook the meaning behind his question.  "No, never." She insisted.  "We'll _always_ be together, Harry."

            Harry smiled.  _At least that was **something**_.

            "I can't just leave you on your own – you're a danger to society."

            "What?!" He exclaimed, jumping up.

            "I said: 'We'll always be together'," She responded through a grin.

            "_Yes_." He said, drawing out the "_correct_" term.  "Another sweet confession completely overshadowed by your witty and biting remarks."

            "Just for you, Harry." She laughed.  She brushed her bangs back from her face, making Harry self-consciously swat at his own unruly hair.

            "Do you really think we'll be together forever?" He asked jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  Hermione scooted forward slightly on her cushion and it sunk a few inches.

            "Wild thestrals couldn't drag me away from you." She answered truthfully.  "I know you're worried; about me, about the war, but don't be – I'm not going anywhere."

            Harry's response was a lopsided grin and he shook his head, "Becoming attached?  I expected more from you, Hermione.  You're the last person I thought would sink to the status of the crazed "fan-girl."

            Hermione scoffed at such an idea, "Attached?! I don't see anything holding us together, do you?"

            "Always with your crazy notion of 'logic'," he huffed.  "Ya know, _some_ people find that _really_ annoying."

            Hermione grabbed a hold of his robes and pulled him closer so that she could better smile into his face.  All Harry saw was her soft, coral lips slowly curve upwards revealing startling white teeth, magically resized in their younger school days.

            "But you find all my qualities charming and endearing." She insisted.

            …full and inviting, shining with a recent goat of gloss.  He smelled strawberries...

            "Hermione..." Harry whispered.

            "Yes, Harry?" Hermione, though perplexed at Harry's odd tone, continued to smile.

            A loud, repetitive clicking sound kept Harry from replying.  A muted 'THUNK'!  The ship pitched forward before slamming to an abrupt stop.  Jarred from the sudden change in velocity, Hermione was flung from her perch and straight into Harry.

            Her knee connected with his stomach and her elbow with his chest; leaving Hermione relatively unharmed as they toppled to the ground.  After her body connected with the hardwood floor, however, that was no longer the case.  The only plus side was that she hadn't been in Harry's position.

            Her knees ached terribly from where they'd connected with the hard wood and she allowed herself a moment to curse the bruises she knew would appear within the day.  Harry groaned beneath her, and Hermione obligingly rolled off to the side, relieving him of her upper body's weight.  Hermione opened her eyes as the sound of wood on wood reached her other senses.

            The water bucket, though frantically trying to stop its motion, was careening towards them.

            "STOP, BUCKET!" She shouted lifting her wand.  The bucket slid to wobbly stop, turning precariously around and around on it's bottom rim.  Then it tipped over.

            Letting out a startled cry, Hermione jumped for her levitated cushion.  Fingernails digging into the periwinkle material, she clung as if for dear life to the pillow, looking utterly ridiculous hanging half on-half off as the dirty water rushed just beneath her toes.  Harry was not so lucky.

            He managed to sit up just as the water surged over his legs, completely soaking his lower body.  As the water quickly spread out across the floor leaving Harry sitting in less than a centimeter of water, he slowly looked up at Hermione, "That did **not** just happen."

            Hermione flung her leg over the cushion and scooted around so that she was hanging over the pillow under her stomach.  Folding her arms underneath her, she swung her legs idly back and forth above the flooded floor.  "Either that or you just had a _serious_ accident that you'll have trouble explaining to your friends once we get off the ship."

            Harry made a face, "Ha. Ha." He griped sarcastically, struggling to his feet.  His jeans were crinkled and bunched and clung to his legs making it difficult for him too stand.  Hermione could scarcely contain her laughter.

            Someone was knocking on the door.

            "Come in." Hermione called out. 

The door swung open identifying Krum as their visitor. He looked down as murky water trickled out into the hallway.  He glanced at Harry and then up at Hermione.  "Herm-own-ninny?" He inquired.  He pulled his wand from inside his robes and cleaned up the mess.

            "Hi, Viktor." Hermione replied, sliding off her perch. "Thank you." She added as her bare feet hit the dry floor.  Grabbing her own wand, she quickly dried off Harry and banished the bucket back to its corner.

            Krum nodded gruffly, "We're here."

            As if an alarm had suddenly gone off in their minds, the residents of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were jerked into wakefulness by an unseen force.  Blinking blearily in the pre-dawn light they groggily tried to adjust to their sudden change of state.  Most just lay in bed trying to figure out what had awoken them; some even tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but that same nagging insistence returned forcing them from their beds.  Cursing insomnia or that second helping they _knew_ they shouldn't have eaten the night before, they all pulled themselves from their beds.  Finding the rest of their dormitory to be awake as well the puzzled students stumbled into their common rooms all at once.  Not a single person remained asleep.

            It was then, just as they all started to talk at once, that a loud sound vibrated throughout the castle silencing all within.  Dread and confusion filled the half-asleep students and they hesitantly gathered around the windows.  As they watched the lake bubble and roll and rise up over the banks, the students scattered – some running for their dormitories, others running out into the hallway trying to get a better view of the scene out on the grounds.

            Four monstrous and skeletal ships rose out of the chaotic waters.  The sand and muck slurched, the waters sucked, and the unnatural symphony was directed by the animated screeching of the mer.  Water dripped off the riggings in torrents that sent giant ripples across the lake surface, wooden boards creaked and groaned as the nippy air assailed their damp surfaces, and bursts of water shot up into the air as a dozen anchors were dropped over the side.

            Only one ship remained completely silent, appearing as dead as the ebony wood from which it was fashioned, and no tiny figures appeared on deck.

            _One of these things is not like the other..._

            Hermione took a deep breath and nodded.  "Let's go."

            Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened out her outfit while she waited for Harry to banish her cushion back upon her now neatly made bed.  She smiled up at him as he walked to her side, "Thank you, Ha-"

            "Quiet!" Krum barked, holding up a hand.  Hermione's voice died away and she looked up at the older boy expectantly.

            "Twelve anchors dropped – that's too many." He told her.

            "There's another ship out there?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.  Krum nodded quickly lifting his wand.

            "Shit!" Hermione cursed, pushing past them and into the hallway.  And then they heard what she had.  Screams.

            "Hermione!" Harry shouted tearing after her.  Sprinting to catch up, he managed to grab her arm and pulled her to a stop.  The face she turned on him was absolutely terrifying.  Brightly blazing eyes sliced straight through his heart.  She snarled angrily at him, baring her teeth menacingly and he felt it stop altogether.

            Summoning his quickly failing courage, he pulled the gold chain from around his neck, "I'm not going to lose you again, Hermione!" He shouted, quickly fastening it around her throat.  He released her and she shoved him off, her sword appearing in her hand.

            "Don't let her take you!" He yelled desperately after her as she dashed the final few feet to the hatchway.  Sliding into a crouch, her muscles coiled and she jumped straight up as the golden aura around her exploded in a blinding burst of amber light.

            Her screams echoed across the grounds as her wings burst forcefully from her shoulder blades and unfurled swiftly turning her gravity-defying leap into flight.  The unlucky Death Eater who had been poised to climb into the hold couldn't even scream as her explosive supernova of light touched him.  In the span of 1.6 seconds his clothes evaporated, his skin burned away, his muscles melted off his bones, and his writhing skeletal form turned to ash and collapsed into a heap upon the scorched deck.

            Members of both schools were pouring onto the decks of the ships as Voldemort's dark warship continued to spew its masked warriors.  Shouts and curses mixed together in the roar of battle, as Hermione burst from the belly of the ship killing a Death Eater without lifting a finger.  As the Death Eaters saw their prey they became more frenzied as the fought their way to the lead ship.

            Rising up into the air, Hermione raised her free hand into the overcast sky.  She shouted a spell in an alien language, foreign even to her, and a pink burst of light appeared in her hand.  Flinging it downwards the swirling energy separated into multiple entities and spread towards each ship.  They enveloped the hatch doors and slammed them shut, fusing them closed with crackling pink energy – keeping the remaining Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons from becoming part of the raging battle.

            As the gathered Order moved to aid the students, a faint circle traced its way around them and the pink energy soared upwards trapping them within a dome of magic.  Leaving them to their vain attempts to break free, Hermione swooped back down into the fray.

            As a Death Eater attempted to jump to her ship he found himself skewered on her glittering sword.  Pointing her weapon downwards, she watched with a sickening detachment as his body slid free from her blade and crumpled to the deck.  She closed her eyes and turned away from the blood oozing out across the wood.

            **Don't block it out – don't turn away from your creation.  Embrace the power of death you hold and break free from the chains of mortal feelings.  Become the warrior.**

Hermione's mind began to grow dim, and she felt herself begin to slip away; Hope's laughter shaking her to her core.  She looked into the blank eyes of the man she had killed, and fought to feel _something_ at his murder.

            **His name was Michael Lenning.  He had a wife – Christina.  She's eight months pregnant.**

            Hermione tried to block out the voice in her mind.  Another Death Eater jumped onto the ship.  Lashing out, she kicked him square in the chest mid-leap and he toppled into the churning waters.  Screeching merfolk surfaced around him.  Hissing angrily and clawing at his body, they dragged him beneath the water.

            **No more bubbles…**

Hermione whirled around to block the rushing killing curse aimed at her turned back.  As the wave of green matter hit the flat of her blade, she absorbed it into her body with a sinister smile as she turned the powerful magic into her own arsenal.  Blackness crackled around her blade like lightening.

            She spun, bring her leg with her and kicking at her attacker's outstretched wand hand with immense velocity and dead-on accuracy.  A loud and sickening snapping sound, followed by the sound of wood-on-wood as his wand clattered to the deck, signified that she had broken his wrist, and most likely the majority of the bones in his hand.

            His screams of pain only fueled Hope's cries for death.  His mask clattered to the ground and he cradled his twisted hand to his chest.  Hermione reached out and grabbed the petrified man by the throat.  Calling up her recently acquired power, she swung her sword around to point at the black ship.

            "Incendio!" She shouted, relishing the surge of power through her body as the warship burst into flames.

            "Thank you," She laughed; mocking the death eater, but he couldn't hear her.  She had strangled him.

            In shock, her fingers released their deadly grip on his throat and she watched the purple-faced man hit the deck.  His face was slightly swollen and his bulging eyes looked straight through her.  She shivered, the euphoria of destruction quickly ebbing.  Her gaze drifted down to his neck.  She could see clearly where she had gripped him, the dark bruises standing out against his pale skin.  Tiny rivulets of blood seeped steadily from several cuts along the sides of his neck.

            Hermione lifted her hand into the sky, and stared at its shaking image – her nails were stained red.

            **Jason Price.  His granddaughter has a brain tumor.  He was recruited by Voldemort after he was arrested for threatening a Muggle neurologist to help his granddaughter.**

            "I can't do this," she whispered taking to the air.

            **You can and you must.**

            "Maybe you can, but I'm not letting Hope out again."

            **Look at the carnage beneath you.  You were given the power to fight – if you don't...they die.**

            "But who am I to say my friends' lives are worth more than people I don't even know."

            **There's only one thing you need to know in war: who's on your side, and who isn't.  Now make the choice – their lives, or your friends'?**

            Tears streaming down her face, Hermione tucked her wings against her back and plummeted back down to the fight.

REVIEW!

I was writing this over the weekend and when I hit page 26 without a reasonable stopping point in sight I decided to cut it into two chapters.  Here's the first part, and when I finished the last part of the other half I'll run on up here super fast.  Shouldn't take more than a few days.  Much love!

KissThis


	26. It Never Stops

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Six: It Never Stops

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13 - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Barely existent in this chapter – sorry.

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot and the hot version of Harry that I created in mah head. Heehee.

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A/N: A shorty, but hopefully a goody.

            Harry sent another Death Eater sprawling across the deck just as Postvorta appeared beside him.  She grabbed the nearest one and disappeared into the Tunnel, reappearing seconds later alone.

            Hermione screamed, letting out her sorrow and frustration, the wind streaking her tears back across her cheeks.  Harry whirled around at the sound and came face to face with the Death Eater that had been sneaking up behind him.  The woman was frozen with fear, looking up into the cloudless sky.  Harry looked up as well to see Hermione's blade reach its target.  The woman screamed as Hermione's arm pulled back readying to thrust her blade into her enemy.  A feral cry tore from Hermione's lips as she fell upon her victim.

            Even as the tears dried upon her windblown cheeks, a sadistic grin curled Hermione's lips as her sword buried itself in the woman's body with such force that the tip of the blade pierced the wood of the deck.  Blood sprayed into the air in a short lived fountain of life before receding to a gurgling expulsion of liquid as the woman's body rapidly cooled in death.

            The body, now barely recognizable as the woman's so mangled and coated in blood was it, slid down the blade with a revolting sound.  Hermione lifted a blood-flecked hand and grasped the golden handle.  With a small grunt she pulled it free from it's wooden sheath and then out of the woman's body through a mutilated slit where a mouth had once been.

            **Jina**** McConnelly.  A true Irish at heart.  She finally got the promotion she'd been waiting forever for yesterday.**

            Deep inside herself, Hermione screamed.  _I just want to save my friends – not massacre innocents!_

            **No one is innocent in war.**

            _Why is she doing this? How can Hope spread through violence?_

            **She is doing what she must to survive – that is Her only goal...**

            Not bothering to stop and clean her blade, she lifted it into the air and let the stolen blood drip down onto her hand.  Hunched over with a hand clasped to his mouth, Harry tore his gaze from the horrific image and looked up at Hermione, the disbelief evident in his eyes.  Without a glance at her best friend she unfurled her wings and headed towards the other ships.

            Harry looked over his shoulder at the nymph floating silently behind him trying to fight back the bitter tears.  "It's happening again, isn't it?" He asked quietly.

            Postvorta nodded and glided to his side, "It will never stop."

            Shedding his cumbersome robes, Harry pushed his sweaty bangs from his eyes and secured his hold on his wand.  "Neither will I."

            An icy chill shot up his arm as Postvorta placed a watery hand upon his wrist, "This is Hermione's inevitable fate." She told him.

            He smiled grimly, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that I'm the troublesome one?  Hermione's my best friend, and I'd do anything for her."

            "She is beyond your help."

            "You're wrong.  But if her fate is truly inevitable, then the least I can do is try and slow it down.  You have to decide now if you'll help me, or stand by and watch her be consumed."

            She studied him with her calculating, empty eyes.  "Let's go."

            Her wand danced through the air, turning two more Death Eaters into stone as she charged forward.  She barreled into one and it shattered against the deck; the second she hit square in the brow the pommel of her sword and it crumbled.  Her jeans melted into flowing black silk and her sleeves disappeared.  She swooped down in front of Krum, whose darkened face showed no emotion, "Keep the ship secure." She ordered before moving on to the next ship.

            The Death Eaters must have sensed that the tide had turned on their surprise attack and they fled in terror.  None of them made it far before Hermione's harpy-like scream filled them and they were overtaken.

            **David Burke.  He was going to retire this year and open a potions store.**

**            Paul Montrel.  He just graduated from the ****American****Wizarding****University****.  He was the valedictorian.**

**            Ruth Gabel.  Mother of two twin boys, Leo and Tristan.  Today was the first time she let them stay home alone.**

**            Jacob Vineer.  He just finished off the payments on his new car, and was thinking about getting a bigger apartment.**

"SHUT. UP!" Hermione screamed bringing her sword arcing downward as the Death Eater shielded its face in a futile and pitiful defense against Hermione's fury.  Hermione's feet hit the deck heavily as she landed beside the final Death Eater.  She watched as its torso and legs slid in opposite directions and collapse – it had been cloven in two.  As the Death Eater's head hit the deck its mask cracked and broke apart completely.

            The girl was no more than a child.

            **Kara Durnhelm.  Today was her nineteenth birthday.**

            "Shut up," She whispered weakly.  She turned from the mess of bodies and looked out across the bank.  With a wave of her hand the pink dome enclosing the Order disappeared and the locked hatchways swung open.  As Krum directed the older students in sifting through the bodies, the younger ones lowered the planks down upon the bank and began rushing from the bloodied ships. 

            Hermione sagged against her sword, exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally.  She screamed inside.  She wanted to lie down among the bodies she had slaughtered and fade away into nothingness.  She wanted their faces to blur together so that she would know longer know them, no longer feel for them...but they never did.

            **Each death brings Hope closer to her release.  The prison you've placed her in is weakening.**

            Hidden within her heart, Hermione felt what needed be done, but she kept the feeling from her mind.  Her own thoughts were no longer secret, and she would not give Hope the advantage over her again. 

            Her sword flickered in her grasp and disappeared, forcing Hermione to stand on her own.  She gripped her stomach as it rolled and jumped into her throat.  She closed her eyes to stop the nausea.  Golden light leaked from beneath her lowered lids as Hope reached out from inside and touched her.  She gasped in pain.

            Eyes widened in fear, Hermione watched her hand lift towards her face -- no longer under her control.  She tried to twist her face away, but she could not escape Hope's persistent hand.  Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as a bloody finger traced the contours of her lips.

            _Why are you doing this?_

            She received no answer/

            The hand shook as Hermione tried to fight off Hope's control.  She could hear Her laughing.  Hermione screamed out loud as icy fingertips touched her forehead and dragged their bloody imprints across her face.  She grabbed her wrist and tried to pull the possessed hand away, but it was to no avail.

            Are we having fun, yet? Hope cooed.

            "Leave me, alone!" Hermione cried out.

            "Hermione?!" Harry was running to her side.  Hermione whirled around to face him, still clutching at her own wrist.  He gazed into her blood streaked face and stumbled backwards, "Oh God!" he breathed.

            You _disgusting_ creature.  Even your friends are terrified of what you've become.

            "No!" Hermione argued.  "This isn't me! THIS IS NOT WHO I AM!"

            Isn't it?  Draco could never love a monster like you.

            Harry watched in shock as Hermione yelled at nothing and stumbled to the ship railing mumbling something to herself and clawing at her hand.  The giant warship burned to ashes beside her

            She stared out across the waters at the Order standing motionless on the bank.  The looks on their faces cut her painfully.  Draco wasn't even looking at her as he ushered the students into the castle.  She had regretted leaving Hogwarts angry with him, and now that he had seen what she truly was she knew that he was completely lost to her.

            He can't even look at you – you're stained with blood.

            Hermione took a step closer to the railing, falling against the wooden beams.  Her fingernails dug painfully into the oak rail.  Her heart began to race.

            **It will never stop – they could never possibly understand.**

            "I don't...understand." She whispered into the wind.

            **You were born to be alone.**

"Leave me alone." Hermione demanded, her voice quiet.

            I will **never** leave.  I'll be with you until the day your heart ceases to beat…

            Hermione's blood raced and her heart pounded in her ears.

           _I'll destroy you at any cost._ The thought only lasted a fraction of a millisecond.  Hope was given no time to react as, immediately after the sudden thought, Hermione toppled over the railing.

            "HERMIONE!" Harry screamed.

            She did not hear the sound of a splash nor feel the fiery waters entombing her body.  Instead, she felt the sudden pain as her body swung back and impacted with a hard, unyielding surface.  Hermione opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them in anticipation of the fall.  She looked down and found her desired destination a distance stretch beneath her dangling feet.  Her left hand clung to the railing.  Tears burned her eyes as she fought to wrench her hand away.  Her fingers only tightened their resolute grip on the wooden beam.

            "Hermione?!" Harry's face appeared above hers.  "Give me your hand!"

            Hermione ignored his frantic request; her body hanging limply against the ship's hull.  Sound rose from the bank as the Order saw Hermione.  A wimper escaped her lips and she closed her eyes trying to halt the flood of tears threatening to flood down her face.

            _Please...let me die..._

            Are you just going to hang there and feel sorry for yourself, or are you going to save the Headmaster?

            Hermione's head snapped up as a shadow detached from the cover of the trees and slipped towards the assembled Order.  "No! Please!" She cried even as her body began to flicker and faze out.  "HARRY!"

            He lunged for her, but she had already disappeared.  Grabbing the railing he looked frantically about for where she had gone, but caught sight of something else instead.  "DUMBLEDORE!"

            The elderly man turned around with a speed that belied his age even as Severus and McGonagall stepped in front of him, wands drawn.  The last Death Eater lunged from the shadows, green light already shooting from his wand.  "For Voldemort!" he shouted.

            Arm outstretched, Hermione appeared between them, catching the killing curse in her open hand.  Her body fazed back into view as the Death Eater stood paralyzed with shock and disbelief.

            Let's show them close up what you really are. Hope suggested, already losing Her hold over Hermione.

            "No, STOP!" Hermione cried grabbing at her wrist in a futile attempt to stop Hope's destructive intent.  

            The magic turned amber in her hand and her fingers curled around the orb of energy.  With an insane scream, not born from her own lips, Hermione's fist shot forward and buried itself within the man's chest.  Just before She faded away, Hope laughed again and released the magic.

            The man's body exploded.  Blood sprayed everywhere as bits of human flesh rained down upon the damp grass.  Hermione shuddered uncontrollably as she turned to face the Order.  Crimson dripped from her pearly wings and the smell of iron filled her nose.  Her entire body was drenched with blood.

            **Just let go.**

            She screamed. _Hysterically_. Her crooked fingers clawed at skin, trying to rip the blood from it. "Get it off – GET IT OFF!" She shrieked.

She stumbled backwards and slipped on the blood soaked ground.  She skidded on her side across the grass leaving a crimson smear in her wake. Struggling back to her feet, she begged for the death she could not give herself.  

"Ginny!" She screamed desperately, "Kill me, Ginny!"

            The redhead's face was covered by a million tears, "No, Hermione!"

            "DO IT!" Hermione screamed.  "You have to kill this thing inside of me!"

            **What are you doing?! **The voices shouted angrily.

            "Somebody please kill me!" She pleaded stumbling into the group. "Draco?" She asked turning to the blonde boy.  Her wide amber eyes were flashing wildly as she begged for him to end her painful sorrow.

            "I won't kill you, Hermione. None of us will." He grabbed her bloody wrists.

            "I hurt you!" She exclaimed. "I didn't even think of your feelings when I threw them to the ground. Hurt me back – _kill_ me!"

            Draco shook his head, "I can't do that, Hermione."

            Hermione ripped herself free from his hold.  The tears pouring down her cheeks left pink trails through the drying blood.  "Damnit! If you cared for me then you'd kill me!" She shoved him away.

            "Severus?" She grabbed her potion master's hand and lifted his wand to her throat. "You don't like anyone, do you?  You'll kill me."

            "I won't, Hermione."

            "Don't any of you understand?!" She shouted. "I die – Hope dies!  Kill her! Set me free!"

            He said nothing, but stared back at her with emotionless obsidian eyes...and dropped his wand.  She screamed in frustration and her fist raced to meet his face.  He didn't even flinch.  Her fist never made it.

            A strong arm encircled her waist, pinning her arm, and another pulled back her angry fist.  She immediately began to fight her attacker, writhing and struggling to break free from her containment.

            "Hermione!" Harry shouted over her frantic cries. "Hermione!"

            He spun her around to face him and pulled her close.  With her hands trapped between their bodies they clenched into fists and she pounded angrily against his chest.  "Don't look at me!" She screamed, squeezing her eyes shut.  Dry blood caked her face and clumped her eyelashes together.  Straggly locks of hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks.  "I don't want you to see me like this!"

            Lifting a hand from her back, Harry grabbed a hold of her hand and lifted it to the golden chain he'd given her, "Stay with me, Hermione.  Look at me."

            Fingers clasping the necklace, Hermione felt instantly calmer and she slowly raised her eyes to meet his.  She was crying so hard she couldn't seem to get any oxygen.  He brushed back her bangs and pressed his forehead to hers.  Hermione hiccupped loudly and she forced her eyes to stay open. "Do you remember what you told me?" He asked softly, staring into her eyes. 

Hermione nodded faintly. "You told me we'd always be together." He whispered. "Was that a lie?"

Hermione shuddered and collapsed against him, "I can feel Her inside me, Harry." She whimpered. "She never goes away; ever she tries to undo me, Harry.  To break free."

Harry's arms encircling her tightened protectively around her.  "You're stronger than this Hermione." He whispered to her. "If you die, then Hope will simply chose another host; one not as strong as you.  You're the only one capable of containing her, Hermione."

She sobbed loudly, the sound muffled as she buried her bloody face in his shirt.  "I'm so frightened." She cried softly, "I feel so alone."

"I can't imagine what you're feeling Hermione, but I do know one thing.  You will _never_ be alone.  No matter how terrible you think you are, I will never ever leave you.  Do you understand?"

He felt her nod against his chest.  "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Ssh," He hushed her. "It's alright now.  Everything's going to be ok."

"I believe you, Harry." She murmured, sagging in his arms.

"If you're ever in doubt, just touch the necklace.  It's yours now." He told her.  Hermione's fingers tightened on the chain.

"I'm so tired." She mumbled.

"I know.  Let's get you cleaned up." Swinging an arm beneath her knees, he scooped her up into his arms.  Her hands were splayed oddly against his chest, but Hermione was struggling just to stay awake.

"Ginny," he called, and the younger girl ran to his side followed quickly by Ron. "I'll need your help."

"Hurry to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore said concernedly.

Harry paused in front of the Headmaster and turned to look at him.  "No sir." He told to elderly man flatly. "We take care of our own.  We'll handle this."

He started forward again, Hermione's head lolling against his shoulder.  The Order stared in shock as the trio moved swiftly towards the castle entrance, the bloody girl cradled preciously in Harry's arms.  The final burning pieces of the warship collapsed into the lake, and the Order was jolted back to the tasks at hand and they rushed to help with the evacuation of the Durmstrang ships.

Harry didn't even slow down as he passed a frozen Draco at the bottom of the stairs.  He turned his head as he passed and met Draco's eyes, wordlessly telling Draco to stay away.  Draco saw the disgust in Harry's face and the protective way in which he held Hermione to his chest.

"Harry, WAIT!" He shouted.  

But they were already gone.

I know it was short, but I did my best.  I only have 13 days to get my challenge done and I haven't even started yet.  So it was either shorter and earlier, or longer and 13 days later.  

Ya know…Harry/Hermione is kinda growing on me... 

I mean, not JK's 'Harry', but MY 'Harry'.  See in MY mind...Harry's hot, lol.  JK's...not so much.  But don't worry, it'll be Draco/Hermione...i think.

REVIEW PLEASE!

KissThis


	27. Just Take My Hand

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Seven: Just Take My Hand

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13 - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: Working on it…

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

†

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Disclaimer: I sold Harry Potter for my spring break trip to Italy – whoops! Mah bad.

--

A/N: Wow, sorry about how long it's been.  I had a challenge that I characteristically left til the last minute and I was rushing to finish it, while at the same time cramming for the oodles of exams being heaped on me.  I wonder if I still have fans out there...

            The common room erupted as Ginny fumbled to open the portrait door with Harry striding in behind her with a bloody Hermione in his arms.  Ron was only steps behind him.

            "Seamus!" Harry shouted, catching sight of the Irish boy. "Get these kids back into their dorms! Ron! Get to the Hospital Wing – Pepper-Ups and Sleeping Draughts.  Hurry!" He shifted the girl in his arms; the blood making her slippery. "Ginny! Bathroom – Now!"

            Ginny rushed on ahead of him, flinging open the door and heading instinctively towards the bath.  She tried frantically to push back the bulky shower curtain before ripping it completely off the rod in teary frustration.  Harry was already kneeling on the tiled floor, gently lowering Hermione's unconscious body into the spacious tub.

            Ginny swiped the back of her hand across her tear stained cheeks leaving a smear of blood across the bridge of her nose; though, it was nothing compared to Harry.  Ginny glanced over at him.  The sticky liquid was splattered across one side of his face, dripping down his neck and staining the white collar of his shirt ruby-pink.  His entire front was stained crimson and his arms were completely coated in blood – both from carrying Hermione.  Every so often a bead of liquid would form at his elbow and drip onto the floor.

            His palm moved to touch Hermione's forehead, brushing back her clumped bangs in the process. "We've got to bring her temperature down." He murmured.  Ginny immediately jumped for the tap.

            "Make it warm." He told her, quickly. "With all this _heat_ covering her body a drastic change in temperature could send her into shock."

            Ginny nodded dumbly and did as she was told.  The pipes roared to life and lukewarm water sprayed out of the faucet.  As the first droplets splattered against her bare feet Hermione twitched and slid further down in the bath making a bloody trail against the back of the porcelain.  Harry pulled her back up and his eyes darted up and down her body.  His mind was racing.

            "We have to get her out of these clothes," He said calmly. "Gradually make the water colder." He added to Ginny and pulled out his wand.

            "Do you think we should have gone to Madame Pomfrey?" Ginny's quiet voice was barely heard through the roar of the bathtub.  She turned to watch the knob as she twisted it slightly to the left.

"No." He told her firmly.

            "_Diffendio_" The spell sliced through Hermione's satin top and jeans, cutting the materials into even strips that fell away from her body.  Harry dropped his wand to the tiles and began pulling off the shredded clothing and throwing it haphazardly behind him.

 "She'd have been holed up in there for weeks while the Order ran tests and psychological scans." He sighed, "Hermione wouldn't have wanted that."

Ginny nudged the knob again. "They wouldn't have kept her against her will, would they?"

 Harry shifted Hermione's body to grab the last scraps of cloth floating in the inch deep water.  Left only in her undergarments, Hermione's body shuddered in the gradually cooling bathwater.  "I don't know, Ginny...Hogwarts is _different_ now."

"What do you mean?" She pressed.  The icy water had reached Hermione's waist and she turned off the faucet.  She swiveled at the waist and reached behind to the cupboards beneath the sink.  She glanced up at Harry as he tried to voice an answer and turned back to the tub with two soft, sea sponges in her hand.

Finally he shrugged, "It's just a feeling."

Ginny handed him a sponge and turned her attention to Hermione.  He dipped the porous material beneath the water feeling it soften in his hand.  Leaning over the edge of the tub he squeezed water out over Hermione's collar making pink rivulets run down her chest and arms.  He pressed the sponge to the base of her neck and with great care began dabbing away at the blood crusted upon her ivory skin.  Hermione slid downwards in the water.

"Hold her up a second." Harry instructed, shuffling around on his knees to the back-end of the tub.  As Ginny gently pushed Hermione back up into a sitting position, Harry slid his arm around the front of her shoulders, keeping her back pressed against the bath.  

The pair worked diligently in silence; Ginny washing her stomach, arms, and any part on her legs the water had yet to wear away, and Harry washing her face, neck, and back.  Harry slid her forward slightly and angled her pliable body so that she was leaning against his arm.

"Tip her head back."  Ginny pointed Hermione's chin upwards and shielded her closed eyes as Harry brought up sponge-fulls of water, drenching Hermione's tangled curls.  Several more minutes passed with Harry saturating Hermione's hair, occasionally rubbing at her scalp with the sponge itself, and Ginny watching Hermione's face, praying for her to wake up.  When Harry was finally satisfied with his task, he slowly moved Hermione back into a sitting position and glanced down.

The water was stained with blood.

He felt her shoulders tremble beneath his hands and moved to feel her forehead.  Her temperature had stabilized.  "Let this water out and pour her some warmer water."

Ginny nodded and reached past Hermione's feet to release the drain latch.  A lurching sound followed and the dirty water spiraled down the unstoppered drain.  There was a tentative knocking at the bathroom door, and Harry's head shot up with a bewildered look, losing his thoughts for a moment.

"It's Ron," Ginny reminded him.  "You should go check on the stuff he brought.  I'll finish cleaning her up." She gave a pointed look towards Hermione's bloody negligee, and Harry nodded his agreement.

"Of course.  I'll make sure things are ready." He told her before slipping quickly out the door, shutting behind him.

            _Hermione moaned softly and rolled onto her side.  Something was tickling her face.  She scrunched up her nose, fighting back a sneeze, and opened her eyes.  Daises hung over her head and emerald blades of grass caressed her cheeks.  She blinked sleep away and inhaled deeply the fresh floral scents._

_            A blood curdling scream filled the air._

_            Hermione shot up, white petals falling down around her.  The screaming ceased._

_            "What's the matter, Hermione?" The voice echoed all around her, and Hermione spun around.  Kylee Rookwood smiled down at her._

_            She wore a white, toga-like dress, bound loosely at her waist with a golden rope.  Her feet were bare, half-hidden beneath the lush grass.  Hermione could smell her distinct scent of peppermints from where she sat, and her eyes began to water.  _

_            "Kylee...I'm so sorry!" She cried, wiping the tears from her face._

_            "Hush, little Hermione." Kylee whispered.  She smiled, her sharp green eyes softening. Dark chocolate hair spilled over her shoulders as she reached out to her. "Just take my hand."_

_            Hermione felt herself engulfed in ice.  A frozen band had formed around her torso, locking her arms at her sides.  She struggled against her bonds, struggled to reach out, but she wasn't strong enough._

_            Kylee's eyes clouded with confusion, "Hermione?" The skin around her wrists was turning blue.  _

_Hermione stared in pain as Kylee's outstretched hand became discolored.  Her hands, the only part of her arms that were free, strained against the ice.  They twisted at odd angles trying to break free._

_"I can't reach you!" She shouted, but it only came out as a breath of air._

_"Hermione?"__ Kylee's voice was frightened now._

_Hermione's slender fingers stretched outwards groping for her hand.  Her amber eyes exploded with light as Kylee disappeared – her entire body dissolving into a shower of light.  Hermione shrieked as a flock of doves replaced the women's body and flew over her head in a flurry of ivory wings.  Tears poured down her face as she fell to her knees, fists pounding into the ground; her arms no longer held in ice._

_Another scream cut through her anguished tears._

_She struggled to her feet and stumbled through the fields of flowers.  She'd barely gone anywhere when the cry died out again._

_"What are you doing, Hermione?" The rich, Irish-accented voice was curious.  Jina McConnelly appeared beside her, an unnatural wind toying with her thick, red curls.  Her freckled cheeks were rosy and when she smiled her tiny nose wrinkled.  Hermione suddenly saw Ginny standing there beside her; older, more mature, but still the same.  She stumbled back, blinking, in surprise, and Jina's face was looking down at her once more._

_She felt weak – letting the tears fall – but she couldn't hold back the flood of pain that had formed inside her. Jina toyed with her golden belt – she wore the same outfit as Kylee – and turned to Hermione.  "Just smile."_

_Hermione's fingers pushed mercilessly against her eyelids trying to stave the rivers of tears.  She scrubbed at her red cheeks.  Jina waited patiently for her to compose herself, warm sunlight streaming through her hair.  Though tears were beginning to leak once more from the corners of her eyes, Hermione pulled herself together and smiled up at her.  Jina's patient expression didn't change.  Hermione's smile faltered slightly and she took a step forward._

_"Hermione?"__ Her face flickered to Ginny's and back.  She was confused._

_"I'm smiling, Jina. I'm smiling!" Hermione insisted.  No sound came out.  Her eyes widened even as Jina's brow furrowed.  Her hands flew to her face.  They trailed down her eyes, her nose, and her roughly rubbed cheeks meeting nothing but smooth skin down to her chin.  Fear and hysteria welled up inside her. Her mouth was gone! She couldn't breathe.  She began to hyperventilate, her eyes fluctuating wildly as panic set in._

_"Hermione?!"__ Her child-like voice of fright echoed that of Kylee's.  Hermione's pupils were dilated and she fell to the ground, writhing in the grass as she fought to control the anxiety that was blocking the air from her lungs._

_An invisible force whipped trough the air above Hermione and cut straight through Jina.  As the two halves separated, Hermione saw not the blood and bones she'd anticipated, but rather a blinding white light emanating from inside Jina's body.  The tears that had resurfaced threatened to block her vision, but Hermione blinked them away.  As the two pieces hit the ground they exploded into a shower of white petals._

_Hermione could now breathe again and she sucked in greedy gulps of air, as she lay panting on her back watching the soft petals rain down on her.  She wanted to close her eyes against the pain, but she couldn't…couldn't will them shut._

_The screaming began again. _

_Unable to stand she began to crawl across the ground, dragging herself through a multitude of daisies.  Petals caught in her hair and the dirt scraped against her forearms.  She didn't see the edge until she'd crawled straight through the curtain of grass and flowers blocking it from view.  A shriek of surprise and fright and she went tumbling down over the edge._

_She hit the slope below hard, the continuing field doing little to soften her fall.  As the steep incline gradually evened out, her chaotic tumbling finally came to a halt near the base of the green valley.  The screaming was so close now it thundered in her ears and pounded against her skull.  She wanted to cry out, but clamped her teeth down together to fight against the pain.  With a determined look, she pressed her palms over her ears and got to her feet._

_ Laying spread-eagled within the daisies was a young woman.  Her bare body glistened with sweat in the warm sunlight; skin the color of ivory.  Long, blonde hair framed her face, disappearing into the grass.  Her back was arched, her head thrown back, and her mouth wide open as she screamed.  Twisted daises kept her limbs pinned to the ground, even though she fought with wild strength.  Crimson blood was splattered across her body._

_The screams stopped._

_"Hello, Hermione." Two voices echoed.  Two men stood side by side; one with salt-and-pepper hair, the other with black, both with brown eyes.  David Burke.  Paul Montrel.  They smiled at her and she wanted to scream._

_"Just walk with us."_

_As she knew it would be, no matter how much she willed her legs to move they were like lead.  Unable to give her hand, unable to smile, and now unable to walk toward forgiveness with those she had killed.  Mercilessly and unforgiving they smiled down at her expectantly – oblivious to the torturing of her soul._

_"Hermione?"__ Their bewildered voices just like those before them._

_She fought once more to walk, to move, to run.  But her legs had turned to stone; hard, immobile.  She screamed as her legs cracked from her struggles.  They shattered and she fell face first to the ground._

_"Hermione?!"___

_The terror in their voices brought the tears again, and she blocked back the pain to raise herself up on her forearms.  Their skin turned ashen and their bodies became still.  The looks of fright were frozen upon their stone faces.  Her eyes would not close.  Their bodies crumbled.  From their remains flew a dozen butterflies that disappeared into the sky._

_Her legs returned, and she got to her feet.  With wobbly knees it was hard to stand, but she did and she turned to face the captive woman.  As she watched, blood from no visible source appeared and smeared itself across the woman's abdomen.  The desperate screams began again._

_Hermione stumbled forward the few feet it took to reach the woman and fell to her knees beside her.  "I'm here to help you!" She yelled over the screams – her voice working for once.  But as she freed the woman's hand from the daises' grip she froze.  The screams were not coming from her...they were coming from the flowers.  They screamed as the blood dripped down upon their pristine petals as they fought against their own terror and disgust to hold the woman down._

_Hermione fell back, dropping a handful of screeching flowers.  Her eyes were wide and dilated as they darted over the scene before her.  She saw it now...what she had missed before; the body she had thought was struggling to break free was writhing in ecstasy, the sweat not from the sun but the woman's orgasmic pleasure.  And she was **laughing**._

_She knew that laugh.  It haunted her every step, every breath, every thought.  It was the salt on her wounds.  It made her stomach twist and writhe.  The woman turned her face towards her, eyes completely gold pulsating with light.  Her lips curled back and she laughed into Hermione's face._

_"Come to save me, have you?"_

_Hermione's stomach leapt into her throat.  The rising bile made her gag. "Hope."_

_"Don't sound so disgusted, dear Hermione.  I'm only what I was made to be."_

_"You're wrong." Hermione whispered._

_The hand that she'd freed snaked up to grab her arm, keeping her close. "I'm not.  I was not born of this world – I was made by the gods." Hope reminded her._

_"You were made to be impartial; a judge to even the scales." _

_Hope smiled at her naïveté, "I was made to adapt."_

_"Not like this," Hermione whispered.  "You've become a monster."_

_"I told you it's the way they made me." Hope laughed.  "I've done what I must in order to survive.  There is no other way."_

_At that moment, Hermione looked into Hope's soulless eyes and felt a deep, resounding pity for the creature.  All She'd ever known was how to keep Herself alive one more day so that She could carry out the responsibilities bestowed upon Her by the gods so many centuries ago.  As far as Hope knew that was her only role in life.  And she would continue to do so unto the ending of the World._

_Hermione wondered how many times Her host had died while She was still inside.  She wondered if She'd ever felt pain, sorrow, loss...or love.  She wondered what She had gone through to make Her turn out the way She had._

_"There's always another way." Hermione insisted. "You could let people help you."_

_A dark smirk spread across Her face, "You **are** going help me, Hermione.  You're going to set me free." _

_She had worked Her other hand free and had grabbed Hermione's shoulders.  She pulled the struggling Hermione closer to Her, Her hands sliding up behind Hermione's neck.  Hope's body twisted at an impossible angle, her ankles still bound.  Her pull was incessant._

_"Please, no." Hermione pleaded._

_Hope pulled Hermione's face to hers, auburn curls twisted around her cool, pale fingers.__  Her mouth was parted, as if trying to suck Hermione inside of her.  Hermione tried to wrench herself away but Hope's grip was too strong.  She could feel her icy breath against her face._

_"Just set me free." Hope whispered.  She pulled Hermione closer and tipped her face upwards.  Hermione's eyes went wide as Hope's lips pressed against hers.  _

_The light of Hope's eyes was so bright.  She felt the life being sucked out of her;  Hope was draining all the energy from her – a literal "kiss of death"._

_She closed her eyes._

_The daisies screamed out._

_"Hermione?"___

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she stumbled as the world reeled around her.  

"Hermione?!" That was Ginny's voice.  Her grip tightened on the heavy object she held in her hand.

"G-Ginny?" She mumbled.  Her jumbled vision righted itself and her glassy eyes focused on the frightened Ginny trembling beneath her.  Why was she so small?  Hermione couldn't focus.  Her lips burned.

The door banged open.  She saw Harry, Ron, and Draco come running into the room but come quickly to a stop behind Ginny.  She could feel the polished wood beneath her bare feet.  She was standing on her desk.  Why?  Her head hurt and she felt dizzy.

Her arm was so heavy.  She looked over at what she held in her hand and her eyes flickered in confusion.  She looked over her shoulder at her bed, the sheets in disarray, and then back.  The splintered wooden post of her bed frame was clutched in her clenched fingers.  Suddenly feeling all the weight of the heavy oak her muscles screamed in protest and the post clattered to the floor.  Ginny jumped back from the collision, colliding with her brother.

"Hermione…come down from there, please." Ginny begged.  "Let's get you back to bed."

"G-Ginny," She said again.  She seemed to shrink in on herself, turning into a small child; frightened and alone.  "Ginny, I _hurt_." She whispered. "All over."

She looked down with curious detachment at the white nightgown she'd been dressed in and picked at the silky material.  She lifted a hand to her mouth feeling as if she were about to be sick.  Her lips were swollen and burning, but it had only been a dream.  Hadn't it?  Her stomach lurched, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she lost all strength she'd had.  Her knees buckled and she pitched forward into Ginny's arms.

The younger girl staggered back underneath the sudden weight, but it was quickly relieved from her as the boys rushed to her aid.  Together they carried her over to the bed and covered her with blankets.  Hermione's eyelids were heavy and she could feel Hope reaching out for her again as soon as sleep claimed her once more.  She flung out her hands, one getting tangled in the golden chain around her neck, the other finding an arm to grab hold of.  She tugged the owner of the arm towards her and Draco's face filled her vision.

"She's coming at me through my dreams," she whispered – fighting to stay awake. "She's trying to use my guilt to weaken me."

"It's alright, Hermione." He brushed the bangs from her forehead. "You're friends are watching over you."

"Find Severus," She mumbled, her words barely coherent.  "Page…page 62..."

_"Welcome back, Hermione."_

Yeah I know, long time to wait – short chapter.  I'm REALLY sorry.  I've just been swamped with a lot of stuff, and now that soccer has started up again it looks like it'll be tough to get things going.  I shall do my best.


	28. Faith

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Eight: Faith

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13 - maybe later...if I feel like it.

Pairing: He's there for emotional support.

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

†

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Disclaimer: The evil talking cow made me sell it...

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A/N: Yum yum – eat 'em up!

            "Harry," Draco murmured, his eyes still on Hermione's face.

            "I'm already gone." The receding footprints signified that Harry had indeed gone in search of Professor Snape.

            Ginny climbed up onto the bed beside Hermione and with deft fingers pulled the thick brown curls from Hermione's face.  Draco's eyes darted up to Ginny frequently, as she moved about checking the pulse in Hermione's wrist and throat.

            "I need a sedation potion," she slid Hermione's eyelid open, checking the dilation of her pupils.  "I don't want her up and moving while she's asleep, but I don't want to risk putting her in a full body-bind.  She could wake up and panic."

            Ron cleared his throat.  Ginny looked over at him and saw that he had reattached the bedpost to its frame.  "I'll go.  I was there earlier and I've got a pretty good idea of where to find that potion."

            Ginny nodded her head in approval, "Don't get caught.  Poppy would have kittens if she found out we were raiding her medicabinets for a patient being kept out of her infirmary.

            "I can be in and out of there in under five minutes."

            Ginny smiled at her older brother, "Good."

            He flashed her a reassuring grin, and disappeared out the portrait door.  Draco heard her sigh softly and watched as she sat back on her heels on top of the bed.

            "I don't get it..." She murmured suddenly drawing Draco's attention.  "She was out too quickly to have fallen asleep, and her pulse is far too fast for her to have slipped into unconsciousness or even into a coma."

            "How do you know these things?" Draco asked.  He couldn't keep the suspicion from creeping into his voice.  Ginny just smiled.

            "I have a summer job working as a medinurse." Her lips curved slightly at his surprise, but she said nothing about it. "Here, have a look."

            Draco leaned forward as Ginny reached out and gently opened Hermione's eyelids one more.  Her haunting amber eyes stared straight ahead.  Draco's fingers reflexively clutched tighter around Hermione's hand as the daunting visage filled his mind.

            "It's like she's gone into some meditative trance; a good one too..." Catching Draco's sight she snapped her fingers in front of Hermione's eyes.  Hermione's resolute gaze never faltered.  Lowering Hermione's eyelid, Ginny moved her hands down and clapped them loudly beside her ear.  Draco jumped slightly at the suddenness of it, but Hermione made no indication of having heard the sound, nor showed any sign of stirring from her trance.

            "Do you think we should take her to Madame Pomfrey?" he asked her.

            Ginny sighed.  Some of her freckles disappeared as her brow furrowed.  "No," she said at length.  "I trust in Harry's judgement."

            "That makes one of us." Draco muttered

            "Harry didn't look at her the way you did," She snapped dropping Hermione's other hand back down upon the bed.  "So right now I'm more inclined to go along with what _he_ thinks is best for Hermione."

            Draco glared hard at the back of Ginny's head trying to bore a whole straight through it.  She turned back around and jumped back at the sudden ferocious look Draco was giving her.  "You have _no_ idea what's going on." He hissed.

            Ginny looked down at her lap.

           "You all talk about Harry like he's some kind of saint – it makes me _sick_.  The only thing he can do is play Quidditch.  Nothing you give him credit for is done himself; he has his little gang of groupies for that.  So what if his parents are dead! There are worse things than never knowing your parents."

            "Draco..." Ginny started quietly.  "No one takes what you endured under your father lightly, most of all not Harry—"

            Draco shook his head, his sharp features softening slightly.  "This isn't some sob story about me and my 'traumatic childhood'.  It's not even about Harry, really." He said.  "I want you to truthfully tell me you felt no fear when you saw your best friend stick her fist inside a man and completely incinerate him.  I want you to tell me you were completely unafraid when she ran to you...covered in blood...and begged you to take her life."

            Ginny's breathing was shallow, but she'd managed for once in her life to keep the sorrowful tears from falling.  She turned to Draco with red eyes and shook her head.  "I felt fear.  Nothing in our life is the same anymore and the events that are rapidly taking place terrify to my very core.  But some things are stronger than fear."

            "Like what?"

            "_Like faith_."  Something sparked in Draco's memory.

            Her eyes moved to Hermione's face, and he knew.  A sad smile tugged at her lips and a gentle hand brushed the damp bangs from Hermione's forehead.

            "I love her like I've never loved anybody else in this entire world." Her voice was thick with emotion.  "And I promised myself I'd never leave her."

            The silence that settled between them went as an unsaid apology; they were both sorry.

            Draco frowned, his hawk-like eyes trailing down Hermione's inert form.  Her hair was limply fanned out across her pillow and her skin was ashen white.  He rubbed her fingers between his hands, hoping to bring some color back into her skin.

_"It was raining when you left your room. You don't have an umbrella 'cause you don't have an umbrella."_

_"Only you won't admit it 'cause you're Miss 'I meant to do that. I'm free and open an unafraid of rain. I'm **wet** 'cause that's how I meant it to be. I'm the Champion of the world, though my life's falling apart because of it. I slept with one of best friends last night -- but that's how I meant it to be.'"_

_"There's nothing to talk about."_

_"I didn't even think of your feelings when I threw them to the ground. Hurt me back – **kill** me!"_

_"Damnit!__ If you cared for me then you'd kill me!"_

_"I die – Hope dies! Kill her! Set me free!"_

            Draco closed his eyes.  There had been so much blood.  _And he had been afraid_.  He opened his eyes and looked down at her as she was now, lying prone beneath the silk sheets of her bed.  What was he doing here?  What about this girl made him sit by her bedside holding her hand like some sniveling Hufflepuff? He thought back to the way she had been before any of this had ever started.

_"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in!"_

            He smirked.  The bushy-haired spit-fire had irritated him to no end, yet he couldn't make himself hate her.  It had been some mysterious force within in her that had kept him from_ completely_ hating her.  It would be several years before he realized exactly what that force was.

            _"What do you want, mudblood?"_

_            She slapped him so hard his head rattled._

_            "What the fuck?!" He stepped back away from her as if she were a demented beast.  Bushy tendrils were falling out of her ponytail and her rosy cheeks were shadowed by the torchlight of the darkened hallway.  Her chest was heaving as she brought her red palm to it, nursing the stinging skin.  He glared at her, rubbing his cheek ruefully trying to dissipate the sharp pain._

_            "Cut your bloody bull shit, Malfoy." She hissed._

_            His eyebrows jumped up.  It was the first time he'd heard Granger goody-too-shoes curse.  He rubbed his jaw and dropped his arms to his sides.  "Now that we've dispensed with the pleasantries, what's your bit, Granger? 'Cuz if you're gonna try and conform me to your piss-ant cause you can save your breath."_

_            "You have a chance to do something good here." She told him with conviction.  One arm was wrapped around her waist and her other hand grazed her chin._

_            He snorted, "In case you haven't noticed I'm not exactly on the side of 'good'."_

_            "What side are you on, Draco?"_

_            He hesitated.  She'd never called him by his first name before and it made him pause.  She was staring up at him with a blank expression, patiently awaiting his answer.  He sneered.  "Haven't you heard Potter and the Weasel? I'm one of the 'bad guys'."_

_            "You're not." She replied, immediately after._

_            "What are you—"_

_            "That's what you don't understand about all this, Draco.  There **are** no sides.  It's not about good and evil anymore."_

_            "Enlighten me," He said in contempt._

_            Her deep amber eyes caught his.  "It's about **faith**, Draco." She whispered._

_            "I am here because I have faith in my decisions and in my friends.  It is my faith that has placed me here today and my faith that will guide me to whatever end I must face."_

_            "I'm not sold," He scowled._

_            "You've let your faith falter and fall.  You need to trust in it once again."_

_            "And betray my father?" He asked.  He watched her withdraw within herself, striking a nerve.  "I know what you're getting at, Granger.  Dumbledore's pet pigeon."_

_            She bristled at the insult, but he was disappointed when she didn't rise to his baiting.  She just asked him a simple question:_

_"Have you put your faith in him?"_

_"What does it matter?  'Blood is thicker than water' as they say."_

_"It matters greatly." Her voice was hard and precise; her gaze steely. "Faith can be a very powerful thing."_

_"You can kill a man with faith?" Draco was less than convinced.  He gave her a scornful smirk, stepping up into her personal space._

_"Or lack there of," She said blandly.  "I know you don't believe what I'm telling you, and I don't blame you--"_

_"Thanks for that," he muttered._

_"However, nothing can stand in the way of your faith." She finished as if he'd never interrupted her._

_He smiled slyly, "So are you going to kill me, Granger?"_

_"No."_

_He wasn't surprised.  She didn't have the killer instinct. "And why not?"_

_"Because I believe in you."_

Ginny had left a while back, most likely to be alone and wait for Ron's return in the prefect's common room, but Draco had barely noticed.  He pulled the chair from Hermione's desk up to the bedside and sat down still holding her hand.  He felt suddenly silly, clutching onto the hand of some mixed-breed girl, and a Gryffindor no less.  But he looked down at her...this girl who's only desire was to give all that she could possibly give, though her body might break and her soul crumble...and he knew.

He knew that he wasn't letting go of her hand.

            _"You can't hurt me Hope!" Hermione shouted across the field.  The daises were screaming out in pain and anguish.  Hermione envisioned the nubile goddess ripping herself free from her floral constraints.  Trilling laughter whipped through the air around her._

_            "This is my dream – I can control it!"_

_            "Believe what you will, dear heart, but this is **no** dream."_

_            Hermione felt her behind her even as she whirled around.  Hope stood a few feet away, her stance defiant, shredded rings of daisies still hanging 'round her ankles.  She wore a feral grin, reveling in her animalistic and sensual nature.  Hermione couldn't understand what was going on – Hope's behavior had become a constantly changing surprise; this voluptuous personality the most surprising one yet.  One that was equally terrifying. _

_Hermione's body quaked with fear and her eyes went wide with alarm.  The screams died out; the crimson splattered daises being crushed within Hope's deadly grasp.  The blood splattered across her ivory skin disappeared.  She dropped the broken flowers to the ground and ran glistening hands down her chest and stomach.  Leftover petals caught between her fingers fluttered down and slid off her sweat-slicked body._

_Hermione couldn't help but watch with a growing bizarre and horrified fascination as Hope's lips curled back, baring her teeth in a ferociously lecherous and predatory manner.  Hermione blinked her eyes – blocking out Hope's image for a mere fraction of a second._

_It was enough._

_"What are you doing, Hope!?" She shouted angrily.  Whatever was going through Hope's twisted mind, promised not to bode well for Hermione.  Tired of the guessing games, the psychotic episodes, and the deceitful invasions she did nothing to stop the spread of boiling fury through her veins.  Hope's carnal grin dropped._

_"You're resolve is crumbling, your will dying, and your faith failing." Hope told her coldly.  Her grin rose again, "**Your body is as good as mine**."_

_"NO!" Hermione's negating shriek rose into something primitive and inhuman.  Hope reached out a hand and Hermione panicked.  Her only thought was that Hope was trying to take her again.  Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she ran from her._

_She felt the disease Voldemort had placed inside her constrict around her heart.  Agony made her cry out and she clutched at her chest as she fell._

            "GINNY!"

            The shouted cry silenced all conversation within the common room.  Fearing what she would find, Ginny was taking the stairs two or three at a time without slowing her pace.  Ron was hot on her heels.  As the pair stumbled through the open doorway they were unprepared for the sight before them.

            Draco was literally on the bed.  As he heard them enter he was struggling to pin Hermione's flailing arms to the bed.  Her wide eyes were unblinking as they darted wildly all over the room; brilliant ocher light illuminated the room.  Her violent thrashing against the bed was that of a desperate animal nearing its own death.  Draco was doing his best to restrain her, but all Hermione's recent training was clearly visible as Draco fought a losing battle.

            "A little help here!" He ground out; his teeth were clenched in concentration.  Blood beaded along three parallel cuts going across his right cheek, and Ginny stared at the fresh wound with confused surprise.

Though he was kneeling on her legs, her struggling was less than hindered and Draco's brow was furrowed as he tried to keep her lower half pinned.  Her legs scissor kicked beneath him and he was thrown off balance.  He threw an arm back reflexively to steady himself and Hermione's free hand snaked out, catching him around the throat.  

Ginny wondered if that was how he'd acquired those cuts; those claw marks...she didn't have time to think of that though.

"_Ginny_!" He wheezed.

"I'm hurrying!" She shouted back – a tinge of hysteria in her voice.  The potion bottle shook in her trembling hands and she fought to steady it.  The lip rattled sharply against the glass.

"Ron – we need Harry **now**! Go –" She glanced over her shoulder, but Ron was already gone.

Draco cursed.  "Bloody hell!" 

_            Hermione's arms flew up to protect her face as she fell.  Her knees connected with the grass and a deep, incessant touch pulled her legs beneath the surface.  The lush field melted beneath her and her back arched downwards as she strained to keep her head above the liquefied grass.  Hope's amused laughter was cut off as Hermione was completely pulled beneath the surface._

_            Blinding white light assailed Hermione's eyes and she blinked rapidly as spots appeared in her vision.  She'd never thought much about death or the afterlife, but she wondered now if that light at the end of the tunnel was more than myth. _

_ Was she really dead?  _

_When you died in your dreams that meant you'd died in your sleep -- she'd always woken up before that final blow, that final breath...This **couldn't** be real._

_            Unless Hope was right; unless she wasn't dreaming._

_            Green tinged her vision.  She strained her eyes to look above; ignoring the throbbing pain the action caused her.  Blades of grass caressed her forehead._

_            She wasn't dead!_

_            The thick band around her neck loosened as the quicksand began to dissipate.  Air rushed into her lungs as she began to fall again.  Her body swung forward, tearing through the melted earth.  Hermione squeezed her eyes shut awaiting the coming fall.  But it never came._

_            She willed her eyes open.  A white expanse of nothingness spanned out around her, disappearing into the rolling green hillsides above her.  She hung suspended from the grassy ceiling by sinewy liquid earth that anchored her feet to the upside-down world – as if she'd fallen straight through the Earth and come out the other side. Her hair floated around her face, interjecting chocolate streaks throughout the endless ivory.  She reached up a hand to brush it away.  Green liquid trailed down her arm.  Sepia locks drifted across her vision again, and she gave up fighting the gravitation-less atmosphere._

_            "Can't stand on your own two feet?"_

_            Laughter._

_            Hermione's breath caught, "Where are you, Hope? Show yourself!"_

_            The grass before her rippled slowly, the rings of disturbed grass moving gradually outwards.  The motion began again.  A golden blonde head surfaced from within the green sea; the ripples quickened.  At an agonizingly slow pace, Hope emerged – stripped and utterly calm as she was lowered into Hermione's sight.  With every hair in place and with every appearance of standing right side up in the field of daises, the disturbed grass around her planted feet returned to normal._

_            "Stop this!" Hermione insisted.  The faces of her friends appeared in her mind.  She brushed her hair aside again, wondering what spell kept Hope's in place while the rest of the world was turned upside down._

_            Hope lifted a pale hand to her face and brushed her platinum hair over her shoulder.  The waist length strands clung to her bare back.  "Come now, Hermione.  It would take more than a few parlor tricks to kill you_ **_here_**."

_            She lifted a hand and Hermione cried out in surprise.  The sinew around her ankles hardened, turning to thick vines.  The seemingly lifeless flora snaked up her bare legs twisting around her waist and torso to bind her tightly.  She screamed as she felt the vines pass straight through her body.  With her pain mounting, she tried to fight off the advancing plant life, but her flailing arms too were frozen mid-battle, wrapped in emerald vines.  The thinning wisps of creeper inched up her neck fanning across one side of her face. _

_            "Why are you doing this?" A whimper of pain._

_            "We're going to play a little game," was Hope's coy reply._

_            Completely unable to move, Hermione stared wide-eyed at Hope.  A deer caught in the headlights.  "Please..."_

_            Hope smirked.  "Have a little faith, Hermione..."_

A little short, but it seemed like as good a stopping place as any.  PLEASE review!  The more I get, the more I'm encouraged to get cracking on the next chapter.

Kisses to you all,

KissThis


	29. Fire

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Twenty Nine: Fire

Author: KissThis

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Rating: Hope's smuttiness is borderline R

Pairing:

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I don't own nuthin' 'cept my fabulous gulfwind!

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A/N: Sorry it's another rather short chapter, but I've been super busy with soccer.  I have a 3 hour bus ride up to Davenport on Saturday so I'll have time to write another chapter, if I don't have one out before then.  Much love to all you who are sticking with my freakishly growing story.

            "Professor!"

            Snape paused.  Scowling, he looked over his shoulder down the empty hallway.

            "PROFESSOR!"

            Harry Potter skidded around the corner.  He hadn't changed since that morning and the metallic tang of blood assailed Snape's senses.  He flung his cape to the side as he turned to face the Gryffindor, his lip curling with disdain.

            "Silence, Potter.  Some of our students are actually here to learn.  Ten points from—"

            "Hermione, Professor!" He gasped.  His was out of breath from scouring the entire castle.  "She sent me to find you."

            Snape sneered.  "Has your patient bored of your attentions already?"  

            Anger sparked in Harry's eyes.  His fists clenched.  Snape's cold obsidian eyes drifted over Harry with indifference, and when they found nothing to impress them he turned away and resumed his swift course down the hallway. 

            "She needs your help!"  Snape stopped.  Harry waited anxiously, but the potion's master made no sign of moving.

            _Damn that girl!_ He scowled down at the weathered stones beneath his feet, half-expecting them to shy away like everyone else.  But they stayed where they were, as stones are apt to do, acknowledging their simple job: allowing people to walk upon them without complaint.  _Curse that insufferable prefect.  Why does she insist on dragging me into the world?_

            The passing bell rang and echoed loudly throughout the deserted hallway.  Doors were flung open and the annoyingly boisterous chatter of the student populace filled the empty space.

           "Let's finish this in my office." He growled and pushed his way through the throng of students swarming around them.

            "Page sixty-two?" Severus shook his head.  His long fingers drummed the wooden top of his desk.  "That means nothing to me."

            "It has to!" Harry insisted.  Snape scowled at the boy's insolence. "Professor, Hermione wouldn't have said it if it didn't have meaning."

            "And what sort of significance do you believe Miss Granger's words have?"

            "It's a page in a book?"

            Snape's lips twisted into a smirk that mocked Harry's words even as he said them.  He leaned back in his chair and gave Harry a contemptuous look.  "How very astute of you." The falsely impressed words made the Gryffindor cringe.

            "Now, seeing as how you are much more _learned_ than I – could you direct me towards which book Miss Granger was making reference to?"  He swiveled slightly to the side and gestured towards the wall behind him.  

The entire space was filled from wall-to-wall with bookcases that scraped the very ceiling of the room.  Books lined each shelf; some old decaying tombs, others looking as if they were fresh off the printing press.  But even the methodical, and most likely _alphabetical_, way they were stacked could not stave the overflow of books that the packed bookcases could not accommodate.  They were stacked in man-high piles beside the desk and placed sideways with their spines facing out above the line of books standing on the shelves.

Harry's hope dwindled.

"And who's to say it's one of _my_ books, or even one on _potions_ for that matter.  That leaves the entire library to search through as well."

"She's in trouble, Professor." Harry's voice was solemn.  Snape closed his eyes and massaged his temple.

"What _exactly_ did she say," Snape prompted.

Harry's brow furrowed slightly and Snape could see him replaying the conversation in his mind.  After a moment he answered.  "'Find Severus.  Page 62.'"

Snape's hand dropped.  His eyes flickered open and fixed hard on Harry's face.  "Severus_?_ She said '_Severus_'? Are you sure?"

Harry nodded his head.  "Positive, Professor." He watched as the potion's master got up from his seat and moved to scan the rows of books.  "I thought it a bit odd, sir." He added, warily.

Snape frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the boy, "And rightly so.  Not exactly fitting the student-teacher mold, does it?"

Harry remained silent.

"After I was discovered, Miss Granger insisted on calling me by my first name, but I refused to allow it."  He moved onto the next bookcase.  "Didn't you ever wonder where all your house points went?"

Harry was shocked.  "That was _Hermione_?"

"Yes – the model student consistently disobeying her superior.  She was _quite annoying_."  His fingers trailed across the spines of the books acting as a guide for his eyes which strained to read the fading print.

"But...you don't feel that way now...do you, Professor?  You and Hermione—"

Snape cleared his throat.  "Miss Granger and I have a _complicated_ relationship.  We'll leave it at that.  I've found the book."

"WHAT?!  But how?  You said yourself it was an impossible task; that page 62 meant nothing to you."

Snape had reseated himself at his desk and was paying no mind to the baffled student pacing the floor in front of him.  His mind was on the ancient tomb laying open on the tabletop.

"It doesn't; not _personally_ at least.  It is just a page number."  With great care he lifted the weathered pages – so old you could nearly see through them.  Harry stopped his ranting long enough to look at the book Snape claimed as "the _one_".  It was musty and stank of decay.  It was written in a language he couldn't recognize nor decipher.

"It's primeval Latin.  You can't read it because it transcends even the ancient Latin you're familiar with."  Snape answered for him gruffly.

As Snape gingerly turned the next page, the image inked onto the papyrus caught his eye.  He may not have been able to read some prehistoric language, but the pictures were clear enough.

"Changing the magic," he whispered.

Snape turned the page, "Quite.  You didn't think we came up with that on our own, did you?"

Harry drew his own conclusions. "This is the book you've been using to train Hermione."

"Your brain actually seems to be working for once, Potter." Snape's retort was scathing – reminiscent of Harry's first years at Hogwarts.  "You are correct.  It was the only time I allowed her to call me by that name."

_            Snape looked up from the papers he'd been grading as the Dueling Room door opened with a resonant click.  Hermione gave him a cheery smile and a wave as she closed the door behind her.  She ran a hand through her messy ponytail._

_            "Hello, Severus!"_

_            Snape scowled and with a wave of his wand the stack of papers disappeared with a crack.  "Miss Granger – let's not begin this childish game again.  Five points from Gryffindor."  He stood up and his chair disappeared as well._

_            Hermione frowned slightly as the precious house points were taken, but looked no less discouraged.  "It's **Hermione**." She insisted.  Snape stared blankly back._

_Her frown immediately lifted itself and she beamed at the glowering potion's master.  "And how many more times before you give me another detention?"_

_            "Three," He recited sharply._

_            Hermione laughed, hearing the emptiness behind the dark threat.  She unzipped her pink sweatshirt and placed it, neatly folded, beside the door._

_            "Don't sound so excited, Miss Granger, or it will be twice as long."_

_            "Hermione." She said sweetly._

_            He glared at her impudence, "**Stop that**."_

_            She met his acidic tone with a wide smile, her cheeks dimpling, carrying on the conversation.  "After I had so much fun in detention the last time?"_

_            He arched an eyebrow.  "You polished my entire storeroom by hand."_

_            She waggled a finger at him, taking it all in stride.  "It builds **character**!"_

_            Snape groaned in disgust.  His wand appeared from within his sleeve and he summoned a heavy tome from the shelves in his office.  "Show me what you've practiced since our last meeting."_

_            Hermione rolled her eyes, "Aw, don't be like that, Severus—"_

_            "Five points from Gryffindor." He interjected fluidly.  "Two times left.  I suggest you find your way back to proper decorum, Miss Granger."_

_            "Hermione!"_

_Her fists were on her hips as she blew wisps of hair from her eyes, but Snape met her annoyed glare with cold impassiveness.  She was wearing navy cloth shorts and a white t-shirt that read: "Joe's Burger Shack".  "The elemental magic?"_

_"Neither of us are getting anywhere.  These games are rather tedious." She pointed out._

_Snape looked down his crooked nose at the prefect and scowled.  "And you're a rather **impertinent** young woman, Miss Granger." He replied._

_"Hermione."__ She quipped._

_"Enough!"_

_"Severus!" She growled._

_"FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!"__ She shouted even as Snape snarled the same words.  "Yes! I **know**."_

_She threw her hands up in the air and walked across the room muttering about 'impossible professors'.  She stopped and looked up at the candle-lit ceiling.  She ran a hand through her hair and Snape could see her lips moving slightly as she counted to ten to calm herself._

_"One more."__ He called over to her._

_Her teeth clenched and she closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to shout something that would probably get her expelled.  After a moment, she opened them again and began her count once more from one.  When she turned around to face him, her amber eyes were crinkled in amusement and a wide smile revealed bright white teeth.  She bounced back over to where he was waiting with a bewildered look on his face, her hands clasped behind her back.  _

_"Elemental magic?"___

_His expressionless mask slid back into place and he nodded curtly.  "We'll start with Fire seeing as how it gave you the most trouble last time."_

_She grimaced and he knew she was replaying the memory of seared clothes and scorched hair.  Then a determined look settled over her features and she nodded confidently, "Right!"_

_She flashed him a thumbs up, but he merely moved the book to the crook of his arm and took several steps back to give her room to perform the summoning._

_She lifted her right hand in front of her and began the focusing exercises Snape had taught her.  She breathed slowly in and out.  Snape waited, rather patiently in his case, but when a certain object didn't appear he became annoyed._

_"Don't tell me you forgot your wand—"_

_"Zzvvbbt!"__ She shushed him in a high-pitched and anxious string of gibberish.  Her eyes flashed in annoyance at the interruption before they turned back to her outstretched hand.  Snape scowled._

_"Wha—"_

_Hermione's fingers snapped together and sparks showered down onto the floor.  Instantly, a finger-nail sized flame appeared above her thumb, flickering innocently along with the candles lining the walls._

_"I give you FIRE!" Hermione laughter trilled across the stone room._

_Snape was dumbfounded.  **How had she performed wandless magic?**_

_She lifted her left hand and covered the tiny flame with it, drawing it into her fist as if the certainty of becoming burned meant nothing to her.  With a smirk she held her fists outwards towards Snape; palms up.  Slowly she uncoiled the fingers of her left.  A small wisp of smoke spiraled upward to the ceiling and disappeared.  Her grin widened as she opened her right.  The brightly burning flame danced lively across her open palm._

_As he watched her effortlessly manipulate the fire within her hands, his mind was racing through his memories trying to recall everything he could about the lost gift of wandless magic._

_In the last five centuries, only two wizards had been able to accomplish the astounding feet.  Both were now, regrettably, dead.  But they had both devoted their entire lives to studying the theories, applications, and techniques of wandless magic and here Hermione was, barely eighteen and wielding the skill as if it were second nature._

_He watched her flatten and shrink the flame, rolling it over her knuckles like a coin.  She flipped it up into the air and caught it in a long gust of air.  Buoyed on her blowing breath it grew larger as the air fueled it until it was roughly the size of a cantaloupe.  She closed one eye and her pink tongue slid out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.  She dragged her thumb across each side of the floating fireball dragging out tendrils of flame.  Turning it slightly she pulled a dozen thread-like strands of fire from the back and pinched the front upwards a bit._

_She beamed at her work and held it up so that Snape could see it, "Ta da!"_

_A fiery phoenix, created of the same flames that gave it its name, was perched upon her hand._

_"How is this **possible**?" He breathed, staring at a wonder few would ever see.  "Miss Granger?"_

_"**Hermione**, Severus"_

_He blinked sharply, bringing himself out of an odd trance.  He sneered at Hermione half-heartedly.  "That's detention."  He looked back at the phoenix, his black eyes transfixed on the glowing creation as Hermione lifted her hand and the elemental bird took flight.  "And 50 points to Gryffindor..."_

_Hermione smiled serenely and watched her Professor follow the path of the bird she'd created with calculating eyes.  She knew his mind was working at 110% to solve the theories her showing had produced.  Her smile widened.  He'd figure it out._

_"Dumbledore will be notified of this immediately.  You are free for the rest of the session, Hermione." He told her, finally tearing his attentions from the phoenix.  Hermione's eyes danced with amusement as she pressed her fingers to her lips and whistled shrilly.  The firebird gave a resounding screech that echoed across the stones and collapsed in on itself in a flurry of smoking flames.  The tiny flame Hermione had initially started with disappeared with a sharp crackle._

_Snape was already moving towards the door.  His volumous black robes billowed around him, making Hermione look unconsciously down at her own Muggle attire.  They did make a ridiculous pair.  She scooped up her sweatshirt and ran to catch up to him.  He looked down at her in surprise – as if he hadn't expected her to come with him.  She blew the bangs from her eyes and gave him a toothy grin, "What am I cleaning this time, Severus?"_

            "Wait, Professor, that's it! That's the page!"

            Snape scowled.  Allowing himself to reminisce was not something he took pleasure in.  Past was past, and all that awaited him through memories was a painful reminder of what he could not change.

            "What does it say?" Harry was anxiously peering over the potion master's shoulder.  Snape glanced down and quickly scanned the designated page.  _Oh, God!_  The breath in his lungs froze and his mind flickered wildly out of control for a fraction of a second as the shock rolled over him.  His face remained as impassive as ever; however, he could not keep the foreboding from his voice.

            " 'The Cleansing Fire'." He recited from the top of the page.

            "What does that mean?" Harry pressed.  He'd immediately detected the change in the older man.

            "Hermione plans...to purge Hope from her body."


	30. Screaming

 SEQ CHAPTER h r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty: Screaming

Author: KissThis

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Rating: Not much in this chappy.

Pairing:  No one seems to be getting some!

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I own everything...I am God. Lol.

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A/N: I've got me some bronchitis...yummaliscious.  I have two big projects to finish this weekend, but since I'm not going anywhere with my plague-like disease I should finish 'em rather quickly.  Leaving me time for THIS! YAY!  For Kami's sake! I'm on my thirtieth chapter and they've only gone through ONE _month_ of school...rather slow pace, eh?

            "Ginny!" Draco wheezed.  Hermione's hand still clutched resolutely to his throat.

            "Open her mouth," Ginny instructed, running up to the struggling blonde.  She held the beaker aloft as if it were a precious jewel – one that a single breath could shatter.  She made it to the bedside without spilling a drop.

            "I'm a little preoccupied on keeping my _own_ open at the moment." Was his retort.  Ginny frowned slightly.  "Maybe you could lend a hand? You know...if it's not too much trouble." He suggested dryly.

            Hermione's face was contorted in a silent scream and the muscles in her arm flexed sporadically cutting Draco's breaths short.

           "Bloody hell!" he cursed, still struggling to keep Hermione pinned and extricate himself from her grip at the same time.

            Glad that her job was far simpler than Draco's "guard-duty" was turning out to be, Ginny leaned over the side of the bed and placed a hand on Hermione's forehead.  With the filled beaker in one hand she pressed Hermione's head back gently, tipping her chin so that the passage to her stomach was as direct as she could make it.  Hermione's wide eyes flickered slightly as if her mind was unconsciously realizing that something was taking place outside her induced trance.  Before the poor brunette could formulate a counter-attack, Ginny poured the frothing pink liquid into Hermione's open mouth.

            _Hermione shrieked in agony as Hope's fingers dragged mercilessly across the vines embedded in her torso.  Tears burned the corners of her amber eyes, but the pain was too much for even tears to fall.  Hope was nearly purring with satisfaction.  Her lips turned up in a wicked smile._

_            "My** lovely**, dear Hermione." Her tongue clicked against her teeth.  She glided around the immobile teenager shaking her head in apparent disappointment.  A pale ivory hand caressed the smooth lines of Hermione's tanner skin – the varying skin tones creating a sharp contrast.  Hermione shivered as the hand reached her shoulder, tracing a steady line across skin and vine alike until it reached her neck._

_            Hermione swallowed slowly.  She tried to turn her eyes to see what was happening, but the effort was painful and ultimately futile.  Long, hard nails scraped idly across the surface of her throat and her heart immediately began to race._

_            Hope smelled fear._

_            "You're a frightened little rabbit, aren't you?" Hope cooed.  A finger trailed its way down Hermione's cheek as she walked back around.  "I've caught your scent..."_

_            Hermione bristled at Hope's deduction and she strained at her bonds, fingers itching to grab a hold of her captor. Hope's laughter was far from sane, "Ah ah ahhh!" She waggled a finger in front of Hermione's face.  "No need to get anxious -- we'll begin the game soon enough, little rabbit..."_

_            "Why you BI—!"_

_            "Really, Hermione! You know you're to blame for your current predicament," Hope said lightly – her voice rising to drown out Hermione's long string of curses.  "All my past hosts gave their bodies to me willingly, giving themselves up to my god-like powers."_

_            Hermione glared back in defiance.  "I believe that a greater good will come from our separation, rather than from the use of my body as a mere shell."_

_            Hope smirked, "What good are **you** without **me**?  Your magic is but parlor tricks without my energy fueling them, and your strength is that of a child.  You're of absolutely no use to me as an ally.  All that interests me is the pure heart that allows me to live inside your body."_

_            A pale finger traced the sloped curves of Hermione's lips.  "Of course, I've yet to reach my full power..." She smirked.  "But your life energy is **invigorating** – it will give me the strength I need to completely possess your body once and for all."_

_            The instant their lips met, a burning sensation spread through Hermione's body.  She could feel the energy that sustained her life force being pulled from her body.  Left without power, her body was becoming weaker and weaker.  Her body sagged down upon the vines that impaled her in fatigue, and a sharp pain lanced through her.  Her mind was jolted into wakefulness and she snapped her jaws shut._

_            Hope shrieked in surprise and stumbled back.  Her large amber eyes were narrowed in anger and blood dribbled off her lips where Hermione's teeth had broken the skin.  Hermione struggled against the vines as her energy replenished itself, lending her strength._

_            A wave of Hope's hand and the cuts disappeared, turning her porcelain face unblemished once more.  "Why are you making things so difficult?" She hissed, striding back towards her._

_            Hermione had managed to free one hand and she slashed the air in front of her immobile body trying to keep Hope from getting any closer.  Hope's own hand snaked forward and grabbed Hermione's by the wrist.  The more Hermione struggled to wrench her hand free, the tighter Hope's fingers wrapped around her wrist until she cried aloud in pain.  Fingernails digging into Hermione's skin, Hope stepped closer, pressing her naked body against the vines and silk gown that housed Hermione's._

_            She grabbed Hermione roughly by the hair and yanked her head back.  Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as Hope's warm tongue was dragged across her exposed neck.  _

_"Just one more taste..." Hope whispered, and Hermione was once again locked in a life-sucking kiss of death._

_She could barely feel Hope's lips covering hers.  There was no longer the pain in her wrist or head, and the thick vines no longer seemed to bind her.  She didn't realize Hope had broken off the kiss until she heard her shriek of frustration._

_"WHAT'S GOING ON?!"_

_Hermione opened her eyes and was surprised to see her own arm melting out of Hope's grasp.  The blonde goddess tried to wrap her arms about her, but they passed straight through her body.  She glared accusingly at Hermione, anger filling her face._

_It was odd, but Hermione couldn't help but smile as Hope's created dimension faded away.  "It seems that my friends have decided to put me to sleep..."_

            Draco greedily gulped in large amounts of air as Hermione's limp hand fell from his throat.  He slid off of her sleeping body and dropped to the floor, rubbing at his neck.  "About time," he muttered.

            Ginny glared at him.  "Stop your complaining and let me have a look at you." Draco was surprised when her cool fingers gently touched his cheek.

            "I'm fine." He scowled and swatted her hand away.

            "That's a nasty gash you've got there.  Looks like Hermione got herself a piece of you..."

            Draco snorted, "Wouldn't be the first time." He said, reflecting on the time in the Library. He watched her dig through the leather satchel Ron had brought in earlier from the Infirmary and withdraw a clean, white cloth and a small glass bottle.  She uncorked it and pressed the cloth to the rim before tipping it.

            "Press this to your cut," She instructed before handing him the potion-saturated cloth.  He hissed slightly as the healing salve burned his skin, and scowled at Ginny's turned back.

            "Do you know what's wrong with her?" he asked after a moment.

            Ginny sighed as she pulled the covers up over Hermione's chest.  She turned around to face Draco and brushed the stray hairs from her eyes.  "I can't be certain.  We'll just have to wait for Harry to come back with Professor Snape."

            Draco sat down on the edge of the bed, "Any idea what she wanted from him? Seemed like a pretty odd request."

            Ginny looked apologetic, "No, I'm sorry, I don't.  But your right, I can't imagine why she'd want _Snape_ of all people."

            "Yeah, I'd figure the Headmaster or Lupin would rank higher on her list."

            "You'd think..." She sighed again.  "But I really don't know what to believe anymore."  She dropped down on the bed beside him, "Things are just so crazy, ya know?"

            Draco lowered his hand and looked down at the pink-tinged cloth.  "Yeah..." He rubbed ruefully at his cheek.  The raised lines across his cheek were already beginning to fade.

            "Keep that on your cut."

            Draco glanced over.  Ginny was looking at him out of the corner of her eyes.  She waited until he complied with her request before looking away again.  Draco shifted slightly so that he was leaning back against the bedpost, facing her.

            ""So why are you still here?"

            The question surprised her so much that Ginny whirled around to face him – bewilderment in her eyes, "What?"

            Draco shook his head slightly and repeated himself.  "If things are so crazy, then why are you still here?"

            Ginny let the question sink in and a smile began to blossom on her face.  "I never really thought much about it before," she said quietly.  "I guess I took it as a given that it's what I'm _supposed _to do -- stay here, I mean."

            Draco's brow furrowed, trying to comprehend. "But now?"

            "I'm here because she needs me," She said, as if it were the simplest thing to understand.  She shrugged.  "Maybe she can't tell me that, or show me, but I know she needs me.  No matter what happens, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.  Whatever she goes through, whatever she becomes...she'll still be my best friend."

            Draco stared at her in disbelief, "I don't believe you lot!" He exclaimed leaping to his feet.  Ginny jumped in surprise; auburn hair flying across her face as her head whipped around to face him.

            "Draco?!"

            "Have you completely forgotten what she's done?  All those people she killed?!" Draco shouted.  "All of you act like she's the bloody Jesus Christ, but she's _not_!"

            "This is _Hermione_ we're talking about!" Ginny shouted back, leaning protectively over her sleeping body on instinct.

            "Her body has been possessed by a higher power and now her innocence is covered with those people's blood!  But you all follow her like nothing's changed, but you're all so blind.  _Everything's _different." He pointed a finger at the girl lying innocently beneath golden sheets, "That _thing_ is **not **Hermione." He yelled.

            "Draco! Wait!" Ginny shouted after him, but he was already whirling out of the room.  The door slammed shut behind him with such force that it bounced back inward; rattling on its hinges.

            She looked anxiously down at Hermione, fearing that the commotion had awoken her, but the potion was doing its job.  She lay blissfully unaware of the goings on – held in sleep for the next eight hours.

            "I'm sorry, 'Mione." She whispered, brushing the chocolate bangs from her sleeping friend's forehead.  "He's just confused..."

            "He's having a hard time of it, Hermione.  You know he has a hard time trusting things he doesn't know – he's not able to see you the way I do...he doesn't understand yet."

            She bent down to pick up the rag Draco had dropped during his exit and refolded the pinkened cloth neatly in her hands.  Anything to keep her hands busy.  "But he cares for you." She gave a tight smile.  "He'll figure things out."

            "Ginny?"

            "Ron." She glanced back over her shoulder at the doorway as her brother walked quickly into the room.

            "Who were you talking to?" He asked.  She watched him walk around to her side and drop a bagful of potions beside the first.

            She smiled softly, "Just Hermione.  She's sleeping now."

            Ron moved to stand beside her and looked down at Hermione.  She watched her brother keep his emotions hidden because of her presence.  But she knew anyway.; how he felt about Hermione.

Maybe that was _her_ special power; seeing..._knowing_.  He broke off from his reverie and turned to her with a crooked smile.

            "You alright, Gin?"

            She nodded, "I will be."

            Consciousness crept back into her mind as sleep left her, and Hermione was suddenly aware of her environment; the weight of her bedsheets across her body, the cool touch of wind that blew from an open window, the bright sunlight filtering beneath her eyelids, and her bedroom's distinctive scent of cinnamon filling her nose.

            She stirred slightly.  The covers rustled.  She didn't want to get up.

            "Hermione?"

            She stretched her arms languidly over her head with a small mew of contentment and sat up.

            "Mmm, what are you doing here, Harry?" She inquired half-way through a yawn.  Memories came as her mind fully awoke and her eyes snapped open as she fell back against the pillows, clutching her head.

            "Harry!" She cried out, pain contorting her face.  "They're screaming...screaming in my head!"

            Harry's hands touched her shaking shoulders and she clutched to him like a lifeline, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.  He whispered soothing words as he took her in his arms and rocked her, but she could not hear them.

            "It can't be real.  It _can't_ be real..." She sobbed into his robes.

            _"Hush, little Hermione.  Just take my hand."_

            Hermione choked on her wracking sobs, "I'm not a warrior! I'm not a _KILLER_!" She screamed.

            Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt warm tears welling up and crushed Hermione's body against his – desperately trying to draw her pain and anguish inside himself.  "You're not, Hermione.  You're not." He lifted a hand to her head and began to rock again, fighting the tears that were spilling down his face.  "You're my best friend, Hermione."

            "I don't want to do this anymore," She yelled.  She pulled her head back and Harry opened his eyes in surprise.  Her face was damp and shining with a multitude of tears and her lips quivered uncontrollably as she spoke.  "Can't we just go back to where we started?"

            Harry slowly closed his eyes as her pleas washed over him.

            "Please, Harry...I just want to go back.  Please..."

            He held for a moment longer, letting her cry out her pain and guilt.  But his silence confirmed the haunting reality that they could never go back to way things were – they would be here 'til the end.  When her echoing sobs finally receded and her body stopped quaking against his own, he gently drew back.

            "'Mione, luv." He whispered, brushing an auburn curl from her forehead. "Professor Snape; he's coming.  He'll be here soon."

            Hermione sniffed loudly, her eyes looking down at the bedsheets in contemplation as she wiped fruitlessly at her cheeks.  Remembrance appeared in her amber orbs and she looked up at Harry, but commented nothing on the motive of her earlier request.  She nodded, a bit distractedly, and pulled away from Harry, sliding her legs over the side of the bed and dropping to the carpeted floor.

            Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath she let it out and nodded again, "I'll, umm, get dressed then." She murmured and disappeared into her large closet.

            Harry stared at the open doorway before the door was oddly closed.

            Hermione breathed raggedly resting her forehead against the cool oak of the door.  Waiting in the dark, for her pain to subside.

            She'd murdered dozens of people without shame or guilt.  She'd squashed them with her power as if they were bugs beneath her shoes, feeling no remorse or pain at their passing.

She felt sick.

            The voices in her head wouldn't stop -- Each victim's voice clamoring to be heard over all the others.  They cried out in pain and anger.  They screamed for vengeance.

            And she deserved it.

            No matter how good the reason or conviction, her transgressions were unforgivable.  Not even for the sake of the world was murder justified.  And she'd already sinned more than once.  Though Hope possessed her she was guilty for every action committed through her body, and now she was paying the price.

            She turned around and leaned back against the door.  Soon it would be over – she'd be back to the beginning.  She smiled.  The dark was comforting.

            But it was hardly efficient for getting dressed, much less getting into something that matched.  Each tiny step pulled her farther away from her sins.  Until the time that she could be cleansed once and for all.  She flicked the light on.

            "Now Hermione...aren't we being a bit dramatic?"

            "Hope!" Hermione's eyes went wide and that same familiar fear rose in the pit of her stomach.  Fingers like ice brushed back her hair, mirroring Harry's earlier action.

            "The fire won't stop me..." She whispered.

            Hermione's hand groped the wall and she turned the light off once more.  The cold feeling in her temple disappeared.  Keeping one hand on the light switch she waved the other one out in front of her.

            "Hope?" She called tentatively.  There was no answer.

            She dragged her hand up the wall and the bright fluorescent light bathed the walk-in closet.  Hope's head was tilted slightly as she studied Hermione from the back of the room. 

            "I hope you're not afraid of the dark."

            Hermione scowled at the woman dressed in white and turned towards the clothes hanging along the walls.  "You're not real."

            "You're right.  I'm just a projection of your subconscious." The phantom Hope explained.  She looked casually around the brightly lit room; a bored expression on her face.  "I don't usually haunt closets."

            "Well, it sounds like you don't have much of a choice." Hermione grunted as she jumped slightly to grab a jumper off the top rack.

            "Choice is an illusion."

            Hermione replaced the sweater and grabbed a white, button-down, blouse instead.  "So you keep saying..." She muttered.  Witty banter kept the fear down.  She slid the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and let the silk garment drop to the floor.  She pulled blouse on and buttoned the middle three buttons.  The tails reached just past her hips and the sleeves extended past her finger tips.  She unbuttoned the cuffs as she walked to the other side of the room.

            She found the black mini she was looking for and pulled it off the hanger, ignoring phantom Hope's eyes following her.  She stepped into it and zipped up the back, leaving her shirt untucked.

            She glanced over her shoulder to find Hope still silently watching her.  She pulled her hair out from beneath her collar and walked away.

            "They'll never stop screaming."

            Hermione paused with her hand on the door.  She looked back at Hope, expecting to find an insane grin spreading across her face, but the phantom stared stoically back.

            "I hope you're not afraid of the dark."

            The light went out.


	31. Problems and Potions, Professors and Pho...

 SEQ CHAPTER h r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty One: Problems and Potions, Professors and Photographs

Author: KissThis

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Rating: Nothing particularly wild and crazy in this chappy.

Pairing:  Harry still loves her...

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

And I am too

But the flowers are dead

The sugar has ants

I don't own H P

Now put on your pants!

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A/N: Not quite as long as I had hoped, but enough to tide you over (I hope!)  I should start getting into the preparations and plans for the Halloween ball in the next chapter 'cuz we seriously need to get this story moving along! Lol.  Thanks to all you faithful readers!

            Flames exploded out from the fireplace; giant tendrils dancing across their stone encasement.  A warm breath caressed Harry's face as the fire in the hearth popped and sizzled loudly.  A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped – startled from his trance.  He twisted his neck, at a rather painful angle, to look behind him; the reflexive action awarded him a good deal of discomfort as he craned his head around.

Hermione was standing behind him.  She was no longer crying.  As the redness in her cheeks and puffy eyes disappeared it was hard to believe she had looked anything less than the calm and composed appearance she now wore.  Her sudden change unnerved him, and he worried what pain she was enduring on the inside – hidden from his sight.

Hermione withdrew her hand from his shoulder and stepped forward.  Grateful to be relieved of the uncomfortable pose, Harry's respite was short-lived. 

With her hands clasped primly in front of her and her Mary Janes pressed side-by-side, Hermione waited for the arrival of her professor.  Sunlight streaming in from the windows barely caught her in it's dusty beam of light causing the shadows cast across her face to deepen.  From their darkened resting place beneath shadowed brows, amber eyes were glazed with reflected flames as she gazed into the fire.

Harry nodded at her – caught in a slow passing of time – and when she made no response, he turned sluggishly to face the grate.  The flames within turned an eerie emerald.  He felt rather than saw Hermione's slow, shuddering breath.  His eyes darted to her face, but the girl he felt beside him was not the one framed within his eyes.

_Please, Hermione...let me help you._

Another particularly loud pop bounced off the stone hollow showering the ash-laden logs with flickering sparks.  Moments later the disembodied head of their potion's professor appeared in Hermione's bedroom fireplace.

            Hermione's head lowered slightly. "Professor Snape." She murmured in greeting.  Her voice was clear and crisp, but Harry could hear the torture and anguish through her fire-laced eyes.  There was a stain upon her soul.

            "It is reassuring to see you awake, Miss Granger." Snape's head bobbed within the emerald flames as his voice echoed bizarrely in a warped copy of its natural form.

            Gathering her skirt against her legs she lowered herself into a kneeling position before the fireplace putting herself at eye level with her professor's projection.  "I apologize if the Order was set back by my incapacitation."

            Snape's beady eyes locked on her face, searching for a sign of humor upon her features, but her statement appeared made in all seriousness.  He cleared his throat.

            "If that is the case then I'm sure a little more hard work on your part will have the schedule back on track."

            Harry couldn't fight the indignation at his professor's words, and let the angry words spill out.  " 'A little more hard work'?! Surely you can't be serious, Professor?" He exclaimed.  "She was nearly in a coma, for Merlin's sake!"

            "Harry." 

The softly spoken word made him stop short.  Hermione's hand was on his arm, barely holding on, yet compelling his attention. 

"It's alright Harry." She said in the same voice.  Her eyes met his for the first time and held his gaze.

He could barely move under her paralyzing gaze.  His heart cried out as her eyes bore into him and gave him a glimpse of the broken soul hidden within.  Raw pain and sadness engulfed him.  He managed to shake his head.

"No..." he whispered, losing his voice.  "You don't have to do this anymore, Hermione..."

She smiled at his naïveté – a mere shadow of the true action.

"I'm _stuck_." She whispered back and turned away, her hand falling back into her lap.

            Snape's eyes swiveled to look her over, then turned back at Harry.  "This is your exit, Potter."

            Harry turned to Hermione, but her head was turned away, her gaze upon the sheer gold curtains of her bed.  His mouth closed in shock, the words already dead on his lips.

            Hurt and confused, Harry made his way to the door. "I'll let the others know you're awake." He mumbled.

            Through the gold-framed mirror hanging upon her wall Hermione watched him go, holding to her apologies until they could once again speak in private.  When the door closed behind him with a muted click she returned her attention to the fireplace.

            "Are you alright?" He asked after a moment.

            Such a simple question.  But one that would receive a far more complicated and weighty answer.  She unstuck her lips to speak.  They were chapped and dry.

            Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion when she did not answer right away.  "Hermione?" he probed.

            "I..."

            Hermione was about to tell him _everything_; the voices, the illusions, the pain, the nightmares.  But as she parted her lips to speak her eyes fell upon the picture unashamedly occupying the very center of her mantelpiece.

            It had been taken a year ago.

            Harry's arms were around her shoulders as he hugged her from behind, his face beside hers.  Ron was right at her side, carrying his little sister upon his back.  All four friends were laughing as feather light snowflakes rained down upon them standing on a street in Hogsmeade.  You could just see Honeyduke's in the background with its windows full of sweets all alight, and beyond that the column of smoke rising from the Three Broomstick's chimney.

            Hermione watched her picture-self laugh along with the others and turn her head to the side to dodge Ron's hand reaching to pull one of her curls.  Harry's laughing smile widened and he reached up to brush the wayward ringlets from her neck.  Ginny was giggling as she leaned closer to Hermione in the picture, pulling on the tassels of her brother's cap.

            Her friends.  If it weren't for them she'd be strapped to a bed in the Infirmary right now, drifting in and out of sleeping potions.  She owed them so much more than her love could give.

            Her gaze fell from the mantel down into the cavern of her fireplace.  Her golden eyes glowed steadily, tinting the whites of her eyes saffron.  With a deep breath she opened her mouth...

            ...and lied through her teeth.

            "I'm fine, Professor." She replied in the soft, cool voice.  "I expended my energy carelessly this morning.  It won't happen again."

            The magical projection of her professor's face scowled at her, naturally distrusting the reply that had been too long in coming.  "I was merely curious at to how you were dealing after this morning's events."

            "I assure you, Professor.  I _am_ fine." She repeated.

            "Hermione," The quiet demanding in his tone drew Hermione's eyes. "People who are 'fine' don't ask me to brew The Cleansing Fire."

            Hermione's eyes darkened for a moment, "That's why you're here."

            "Hermione—"

            She cleared her throat.  "I'd rather you just do as I requested and not ask questions."

            Snape scowled, "I don't need to ask questions.  Nothing I could learn from you could persuade me to brew you this potion."

            "Professor," She began.

            "There's no way you are getting this potion," Snape insisted darkly.  "No potion's master will brew this potion and the Order will not allow you to do it yourself."

            Hermione's resolve faltered and sadness seeped into her bones.  The voices screamed deafeningly, and a hand flew to her temple.  An aching pain throbbed in her head.

            "Professor." She ground out.  His eyes were on her hand. "I'll tell you only once more.  You _must_ brew me The Cleansing Fire."

            Snape stared stonily back.

            "No."

            The fire burst outward and Hermione fell backwards to avoid the burning tendrils.  When the heat receded she dropped her arm from her eyes and looked upon her fireplace.  Empty and golden-orange once more the tiny fire danced cheerily in the grate surrounded by glowing embers.  Snape was gone.

            Someone was knocking on her door.

            She got to her feet slowly, taking the time to compose herself. _ She **was** going to brew that potion – regardless of what the Order thought._  She closed her eyes.  _And then she'd be free._

            Hermione mustered a half-hearted smile for her friends on the other and opened the door.

            "Professor Lupin?"

            The homely looking professor smiled warmly at her in greeting.  "Hello, Hermione.  May I come in?"

            "O-of course," She nodded dumbly, stepping aside to allow him entrance.  The kind-hearted lycanthrope had been far from who she'd expected to be knocking on her door and his sudden appearance had surprised her.

            "I came to see how you were doing." He explained as she turned around.  His arms were folded in the sleeves of his robes; still worn and patched as ever.  "How _are_ you doing?"

            "I'm fine." Hermione replied, echoing her earlier words.

            "That's debatable." He followed smoothly.  "But that's not why I'm here.  Harry's worried about you."

            Hermione was surprised, "_He_ sent you?"

            Lupin chuckled.  "No, but it warranted saying."

            Hermione looked down, "I see." She sighed.  "Professor?"

            "Yes, Hermione?"

            "I was wondering if I might have the day off," She said, finding a sudden interest in the floor.  The mentioning of Harry had thrown her. "...to replenish my energy and recover, sir."

            "No."

            Hermione's head snapped up in shock, "Wha—"

            "Hermione, you're life is spinning wildly out of control." He placed his hands on her shoulders.  They comforted her a little.  "The best thing for you right now is _order_."

            Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly as her brow furrowed. "Your logic is questionable, Professor."

            He was less than intimidated.  His eyes twinkled merrily at her from beneath sandy-gray bangs.  "Trust me."

            Hermione's nose wrinkled, unconvinced.  Lupin gave her shoulders a squeeze and drew back.  Folding his arms back within his tattered robe, he gave her a knowing smile.  "You have two minutes to get to Transfiguration."

            Her lips quirked in annoyance.  "Professor," She spoke slowly to drive her point across.  "I understand the need to continue my training.  However, I believe it would be an overall benefit for the entire operation if I were to be allowed the day off."

            "There was a time when Hermione Granger wouldn't think twice of arguing with a professor." His tone was more serious, but a soft smile still played upon his lips.

            Heat rose in her cheeks.  "I mean no disrespect, sir." She murmured.

            "One minute."

            Hermione's eyebrows arched up.  "E-Excuse me?" He _couldn't_ be serious.

            "You'd better run, Miss Granger."

            Hermione needed only to look at his face before she was tearing out of the room, wand in hand.

            It didn't help her any that the Transfiguration classroom was four floors down.  Luckily for her she happened to be best friends with two of the schools biggest troublemakers and danger seekers.  Wielding her wand with an expert hand she opened the secret passageway near the tower's stairs and ran through it.  Emerging from the other side on the third floor she scrambled out from behind the statue of Ethelred the Ever-Ready, who was famous for taking offense at nothing and cursing innocent bystanders.

            She took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping at the bottom, and sprinted across the stone hallways to the Transfiguration room waiting at the very end.  She skidded inside the classroom with barely seven seconds to spare and managed to slow down enough to keep from running headlong into her desk.  She flopped down into her seat beside Neville, just as the bell began to ring, panting heavily.

            "Umm...Hi, Hermione," he squeaked hesitantly.  Hermione lifted the bangs back from her eyes and truly smiled for the first time that day.

            "Hullo, Neville." She replied warmly.  "Don't worry.  I was just a little late is all."

            "Miss Granger!"

            Hermione jumped and looked over her shoulder as Professor McGonagall strode briskly into the room.

            "I'm sorry you deem the school uniforms unfit for your use," She said crisply.  "Five points from Gryffindor."

            Hermione turned pink.  She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting "it was all Professor Lupin's fault".  She doubted McGonagall would believe her nor would she find the outburst amusing.  Hermione figured it was best to refrain from comment and accept the deduction.  She'd earn the points back easily enough.

            Neville visibly relaxed when McGonagall passed by and gave Hermione a toothy grin, "I'm glad you're here, Hermione."

           Glancing up to make sure McGonagall was occupied, she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, unconsciously mirroring Professor Lupin's earlier actions.  "Don't worry, Neville.  We'll have you passing Transfiguration in no time."

            "T-That's not all..." Neville stammered.

            Hermione, who had been adjusting her blouse, straightened and looked at him with soft eyes, encouraging him to go on.  "Yes, Neville?"

            "I-I'm glad you're my friend." He finally managed.  As she stared at him in surprise he patted her shoulder.  "And don't worry.  Things'll work out."

            Hermione smiled widely and wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand, "Thanks, Neville." She whispered.

            "It's what my Gran always tells me." He added, a bit sheepishly.

            Hermione laughed softly and roped in her rampant emotions, "Your Gran's a very wise woman."

            Neville blushed to his eartips.

            Hermione began to copy down the notes McGonagall had magicked onto the board, and as she settled into the reflexive task her mind drifted.  Without realizing it, she'd pushed the voices and the pain and the horrible memories of Hope's dimension to the back of her mind and nearly forgotten.  She had become Hermione Granger once more. She had begun to move on.

            As the neat, printed words were inked across her parchment she focused hard on the trivial task.  She refused to let the guilt take hold.  She lifted a hand warily to hear chest to reaffirm that her heart was indeed still beating normally.  It was.

            Despite all that had happened to her, and contrary to her previous beliefs, she _was_ growing stronger.  Soon she'd be able to break Voldemort's spell, and then purge her body of Hope. 

So very soon she would breathe the free air once more.

            Hermione smiled to herself and settled back as McGonagall began the day's lecture.


	32. Confrontation and Vindication 1 yr

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Two: Confrontation and Vindication

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Little H/Hr, Little MORE D/Hr (long awaited)

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I don't own any HP. The lyrics used in this chapter and the next are both copyrighted to Dashboard Confessional ("Drowning", "Vindicated")

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ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!

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A/N: This first part has a little H/Hr hintage, but it's mostly angst with Hermione and then Hermione x Draco making up.

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Enjoy this, the one year anniversary chapter of An Inevitable Fate:

She'd slept through lunch, so when dinner finally rolled around after a particularly grueling weaponry session Hermione's steps were brisk as she hurried to meet up with Harry and Ron at the entrance. She was halfway down the stairs when the giant, ceiling-high doors opened inward and a bedraggled clump of sixth-years came shuffling inside.

Pressing her satchel to her side, Hermione took the last few steps in a rush, skipping every other and taking the last three in a less-than-dignified leap.

"What happened to you two?" She called out, picking out her friends' tired faces in the crowd and jogging towards them.

As they elbowed their way into sight, Hermione stopped short, her face cracking into a wide grin. They looked absolutely _ridiculous_. Their hair was sticking up in all directions, and even Harry's looked like it'd taken a turn for the worse. It didn't help that small twigs and crushed leaves were poking out of their robes and from behind their ears, adding to the hilarity of their appearance.

"Have you two been rolling in the dirt?" She ventured, dissolving into loud laughter barely suppressed by the inadequate hand covering her mouth. They scowled at her, but she waved their annoyance away with her free hand.

"Let's head to dinner and then we can get the two of you cleaned up, eh?" She suggested, trying vainly to keep the amusement from her voice. They grumbled and grudgingly fell into step beside her, but not without affirming that the amusement she was garnishing from their obvious frustration would not go unpunished – later...when they were cleaner.

Hermione squeezed in between the two and through her arms around their shoulders, displacing dirt and bits of leaves that had settled on their robes. She looked between her two best friends with pursed lips as if deciding whether or not to speak.

"You know," She began, clearing her throat. "I must say, I'm really proud of you two for picking out your Halloween costumes early this year."

" 'ermione!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione darted forward, laughing merrily as she dodged Harry's hands trying to grab a hold of her. With red-tinged cheeks she attempted to regain her breathe while she danced tauntingly just out of reach.

"I can't believe it, 'Arry!" Ron exclaimed, incredulously. "Our own best mate turned on us."

Harry nodded gravely and gave a dramatic sigh, "I guess saving you from a beastly troll doesn't amount to much these days..." He trailed off wistfully, with Ron shaking his head beside him.

Hermione clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Oh, stop being such a pair of drama wizards."

The warmth was still in her face and her cheeks dimpled as she put her fists on her hips, "I was just poking a little fun. I couldn't help it. I mean look at you!"

She gesture emphatically at their disheveled appearance. "You look like a pair of uprooted mandrakes!"

"Look at 'er...making jokes at _our_ expense." Ron said dismayed. "It's just sick – isn't, Harry?"

Harry nodded automatically, "_Disgusting_."

Hermione snickered and rolled her eyes, "Come on you two. I'm starving and I'm not going to listen to your dramatics on an empty stomach."

Harry and Ron cracked the grins they'd been hiding and jogged up to her. She shook her head at them, smiling softly. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm friends with you." The trio linked arms and proceeded towards the Great Hall.

Ron gave a lopsided grin, "It's 'cause you love us, Hermione."

She fought down a grin, trying to give the appearance of bored aloofness. "Oh, that's right!" She exclaimed dryly, as if suddenly remembering. "Your humor."

Harry laughed out loud, drawing Hermione in as well. Ron pouted only a moment longer before he was laughing along with them and together they disappeared into the Great Hall.

* * *

"Ginny, dear, could you pass me the chicken, please?"

Hermione relieved the younger girl of the meat-laden platter and set it down in an open space in front of her. As she moved the chicken from the tray to her plate, Hermione looked around the buzzing dining hall and felt warmth spread all the way down to her toes. Hogwarts looked alive once more.

The tables were near full to bursting with the addition of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They were no longer "house tables" for the students were scrambling just to get a seat at all. Some didn't even get that and scattered students, wearing the colors of all three schools, were lounged out on the cobblestones in small groups chatting and eating; not caring that they were sans the usual table and benches.

It was a sight Hermione thought she'd never see again.

"Hey, 'Mione!" Ron called. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the combined conversations rising throughout the Great Hall. "You done with the chicken?"

Hermione nodded and leaned back slightly so he could lift it away. Catching Fleur's eye as she did so, Hermione waved to the older woman seated unashamedly upon the floor down by the teacher's table. Fleur flashed her dazzling white teeth and raised an elegant hand in return before turning back to the Hufflepuff talking animatedly beside her.

She turned back to her own friends and found Harry's eyes on her. He looked down at his plate and she found him to be picking absently at his dinner roll. Her forehead creased slightly. Harry was rarely quiet during dinner. "Harry?" She ventured. "Harry, is something wrong?"

She placed her hand over his, if not to comfort him than, if nothing else, to save that poor dinner roll.

"I'm just wondering why you're out of bed, Hermione."

Hermione had to strain her ears to hear his reply – his normal voice was far too quiet for the new atmosphere of the Great Hall.

"You need to rest—"

"Harry, I'm _fine_." Hermione interrupted. She squeezed his hand, "Really."

The flickering light from the candles levitating above them made his face look strained, "But—"

Hermione's nose wrinkled and she withdrew her hand so she could lift her goblet of pumpkin juice, "Let's talk about something else, Harry." She suggested, taking a drink.

He smiled slowly, "Like what?"

She laughed and wiped her mouth dry on her napkin. "Like that twig hanging from your hair," She chuckled, leaning forward to pull the offending object from his bangs.

Harry groaned and ran his hands through his hair, succeeding only in brushing a large handful of outdoor debris onto the once immaculate white tablecloth. Hermione pursed her lips and gave him a disapproving look. He had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry, 'Mione."

Her expression softened and she hesitated a moment before leaning across the table and pressing her lips lightly to his cheek. She pulled back, flushing light pink at Harry's dumbfounded expression. He stared at her in shock, his mouth half open.

"Thank you, Harry." She murmured. "For worrying about me."

Hermione cleared her throat, regaining her composure, and stood. "I'm going to head up and get started on my homework."

Harry was still in shock, but he was quickly broken from his stupor when Ron elbowed him painfully in the ribs. Harry jumped in his seat and turned to glare at his friend, while rubbing at his sore side. Ron was less than impressed; he kept motioning to Hermione with his head, but Harry stubbornly refused to look up at her. It seemed Ginny had witnessed the exchange as well for she gave Hermione a mischievous wink.

Harry's face was turning red.

Hermione shook her head slightly and chuckled softly at the entire scenario, but there was still a pink tinge to her cheeks. "Goodnight, everyone." She said loudly, informing them of her departure.

Hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder she gave the table a short wave before starting off to her rooms at a swift pace.

"Come on, mate..." Ron whispered beside him. Harry looked confused.

"What?"

"Go _after_ her!" Ron hissed, growing obviously irritated with his friend's amazing show of stupidity.

"What!" Harry hissed back, "No way!"

"Ron's right," Ginny joined in. "You're not just gonna let her walk away are you? Not after _that_?"

"I don't know what you two are going on about – there's nothing happening between us." Harry insisted.

Ron glanced down the hall. Hermione had nearly reached the doors, but it seemed she'd stopped for a moment to talk with Krum who was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table.

"Don't tell me you're _that_ dense!" Ginny was exclaiming. "_Of course_ it meant something."

Harry gave her an unconvinced look, "It was just a thank you."

"Yeah!" Ginny shot back, as if he'd just proved her case for her. "A thank you she could have easily just _said_ and left it at that. Were you watching the same kiss I was?"

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, "Would you just go already!"

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. Scooping his bag up from beneath the bench he hung it over his shoulder and stepped out into the aisle. "Alright, I'm going." He relented. "Not because you told me to or because of your childish theory that Hermione has _any_ feelings towards me other than friendship, but because I have homework." He insisted.

Ginny sighed, "She's _gone_."

Harry's head immediately turned to the large oak doors at the opposite end of the hall, and he watched them close shut behind a swirl of black robes and a head of auburn curls.

* * *

Hermione sighed and set aside her eagle quill. She stretched her arms above her head and was rewarded with a satisfying pop. Three rolls of parchment for Potions comparing the Polyjuice Potion to Transfiguration spells. She had just finished. One more roll than Snape had requested, but then again she'd always been an overachiever she supposed. She glanced out the window. Dark.

It was time.

She sat up and began to recollect her school things. She re-corked her inkwell and returned it and her quill to her beside table. Her potions textbook was dropped back into her satchel, and the others were set neatly back on the shelf above her desk. She rolled up the first two parchments containing her potion's essay, but left the third stretched open to dry, and dropped the twine-tied rolls into her bag as well.

Pulling off her uniform she quickly donned a simple, black dress. It covered her arms from shoulder to wrist and had a modest box-cut neckline. It was, however, too long in the skirt and gave her a train that dragged nearly a foot behind her.

Discarding any jewelry she'd been wearing she also removed the hair tie from her hair and let the silky curls fall down her back. From her closet she retrieved a long cloak and swung it over her shoulders. It was heavy and thick and so dark that its green color could almost be mistaken for black. She fastened the clasps tightly, though her room was far from cold, and drew the cowl up over her head casting her face into shadow.

And she did this all in silence, taking great pains to make sure everything went accordingly. But her heart was also heavy and the weight kept her from speaking.

From beneath her bed she pulled a black, satin bag and slipped it carefully into her pocket before straightening. Picking up her wand she deposited that too within her pocket before climbing out her window.

* * *

"What is it Remus?" Dumbledore murmured, walking up behind the professor and peering out the window as well.

"Hermione Granger just climbed out her window." He replied impassively. He gave a half-gesture towards the Gryffindor tower and Dumbledore's eyes moved slowly up the blurred outline of the castle against the dark backdrop to where a shadowed form was making its way effortlessly down the stone walls.

"Hmm," Albus muttered. "It was probably best I make this announcement in her absence."

Lupin pulled his eyes from the tower and turned to question the Headmaster, but the elderly man was already shuffling down the hallway and out of sight.

* * *

Hermione dropped the last few feet off the vine-covered trellis and landed in a crouch to deaden the shock of landing. Her hand drifted to her pocket reassuring herself that its contents were safe and sound before starting across the grounds. The wind was violent, threatening to knock her over with every step. It twisted her hair into frenzied patterns and painful knots and blew it over her eyes so that she could not see. Even a cloak as heavy as her own was lifted off the ground, billowing and snapping loudly behind her.

But her steps were slow; there was no need to hurry. The destination would still be there no matter if the journey took minutes or days. The thought comforted her little and she found herself dragging her feet wishing to continue the journey for as long as she could. But that could not stop the inevitable end from reaching her. It was time.

With the lake to her back and the forbidden forest spread out before her she stopped. Her legs would carry her no further.

She didn't try to move; didn't force her feet forward. She just stood there. Waiting.

* * *

"Excuse me for this interruption, but I have an announcement to make. Most of you probably already know about the incident that happened here early this morning. For those of you who don't I shall give you the barest summary. I'm sure there are others who can fill in the necessary details. At approximately two-thirty this morning, the Durmstrang ships, bearing students from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang along with our own Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, were attacked by Voldemort's own ship as they arrived at Hogwarts. It is likely this battle would have resulted in the tragic loss of many lives if not for the efforts of one girl."

* * *

Hermione took in a deep breath and crossed the undrawn line. The fresh-tilled earth was soft beneath her bare feet, sinking with each step she took. Wraithlike, she glided through the cool dirt; mute and unwavering. She reached the forest's edge and gathered into her arms dead wood and branches that had been blown down. When she could carry no more she returned the way she came and deposited her burden.

With great care she fashioned a crude pyramid of sticks and logs ringed with smooth stones she gathered from the water's edge. Taking a step back from her creation, Hermione kneeled in the dirt and pulled from within her robes the black satin bag from her room. She undid the drawstrings and drew forth a tiny wooden box. This too she opened and into her open hand poured a fine, white sand.

She murmured a few words to bless the sand clenched in her fingers, but the wind carried them away. Raising the sand above the stick temple she'd built for it, she uncurled cold fingers and let the white rain down. She drew forth her wand and moved back several paces.

"Incendio!"

The small, pitiful pile of kindling ignited instantly exploding upwards in giant flames fed by the mysterious white powder. Heat washed over her and she closed her eyes. It warmed her body, but not her heart. She waited for the color to return to her skin, before turning away from the bonfire that continued to rage.

Stooping down to pick up a piece of extra firewood she dug a ball of twine from the satin bag and began to lash another piece across it. With numbing fingers she continued her work, beginning again and again until she was finished.

Picking up half the pile, she moved to the far corner. _To the first_. Laying down all save one, she lifted the heavy rock she'd taken from the lake and slowly began to pound the first wooden cross into the ground.

* * *

"Because of her, not a single loss from our side occurred. She fought valiantly and at the risk of her own life to defend this castle and all of you inside of it. Now you must ask yourselves: How many times have you passed this young woman in the hallways and spared her a simple 'hello'? How many times have you took part in some joke at her expense? How many of you don't even know her face? I do not judge you your past transgressions. You are but children...trying to find your way."

* * *

And when she was finished, thirty-one lasting crosses stood naked in the wind to mark the graves of those who had fallen. They were unadorned, save for the twine that bound them and the different names carved painstakingly into each cross-arm.

A name for every cross.

Hermione swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It would never stop making her heart ache – knowing that twenty two of those crosses were her own doing. She sniffed loudly into the wind and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She could feel the heat of the fire on her back as it roared in the wind behind her.

"Their sense of duty was no less than yours, Hermione."

She whirled around in surprise, the cowl of her cloak falling back slightly, "Draco!"

He walked up to stand beside her. His hands were wedged tight in the pockets of his black slacks. He was only wearing a navy blue jumper, but the cold didn't seem to bother him. Hermione started at him dumbfounded. He gazed out upon the graves for a long moment before he spoke again.

Dropping into a crouch he ran his hand along the rough wooden marker. He sighed and the wind carried it away.

"I wonder what their names are..." He scooped a handful of dirt into his hand and let it sift out through his fingers. "Where they came from..."

"_I_ know their names..."

Draco stood and turned around to face her. Hermione stared off into the forest, where the trees melted into shadows and the shadows became trees, and let the tears roll down her face.

"I know the names of their family," She said without turning. "I know where they came from. I know their birthdays. I know their favorite color. I know that Micheal was going to name his baby girl Penelope – after his grandmother. I know that Jacob hit a tiny blue jay with his bicycle when he was eight and after that he never rode again."

She turned to look at him, her wide amber eyes filled with tears. "I know that Jina's watched _Gone With the Wind_ at least a hundred times, but it still makes her cry every time."

"Oh, God," Draco whispered. He was in shock. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I...I didn't know..."

Hermione shook her head and rubbed roughly at her eyes. "No, Draco. It's not your fault."

She lowered herself down onto the ground and patted the grass beside her, "Come sit down, Draco." She sniffled, "I promise I won't cry anymore."

Draco looked down at Hermione, sitting in front of a bonfire and trying her best to wipe the tear stains from her cheeks, and realized for the first time how very small she was. He saw what the murder of these people had done to her. She'd lost a piece of her soul – a piece that no matter how hard she tried, nor how far she looked, she never be able to find again. She'd never been completely whole.

Hermione hadn't wished this fate upon herself – it had been thrust upon her. And she was buckling under the weight. Draco sat himself down beside her and pulled her into her arms. He'd decided in that split instant that he'd protect her. Always.

No matter what anyone else thought, that night he'd seen her soul as clearly as if she'd woven it into the emerald cloak laying draped around her shoulders. His grip on her tightened and he buried his face in her torrent of curls.

She was no monster.

No...it was far worse...

She was an angel trapped in hell.

"I wonder..." Hermione whispered into his neck. "If in their hearts...they truly were evil."

"I don't know, Hermione." Draco whispered back. "I can't say what lies or threats led them from their homes. Of if they wouldn't rather have stayed there."

It didn't matter why he was there. He was there all the same, and Hermione clung to him. All their anger was gone now.

They'd gone back.

There in Draco's arms, Hermione had led them back to the way things were before. Her heart felt whole again. Draco was here. _Everything was going to be alright_.

"I have to let them know, Draco." She told him in a hushed voice, "They need to understand."

She pulled away from him and dragged herself to her knees before the first row of crosses – haunting reminders of the cost of war. But those wooden symbols were still memorials. The ground was now cleansed of darkness and protected by the power of spirit and faith. It had been part of the debt she was here to repay.

* * *

"You may not all know Hermione Granger, but know this: A very brave young woman laid down her life for you today – you who mock her, those who ignore her, those who cannot match her name to a face in the room – simply because it was the right thing to do. She held no grudge, no petty rivalry, fighting bravely to protect _every_ single one of you. Such an act is something some of you may never understand, and the age we now live in is partially to blame. But for all her courageousness, this young woman lost a piece of herself defending us; a piece she can never get back."

* * *

"It is said...that the dead can hear your thoughts." She voiced into the darkness. It made no reply. "I don't know if that's true or not, but..." She trailed off. This isn't the way she wanted to do this – this wasn't what she'd come to say.

She had to explain it. They _had_ to understand; understand _why_ they'd lost their lives. The wind was howling in her ears.

"I have all this power." She started softly, "I didn't ask for it. I don't deserve it. But...I can't escape it."

Her amber eyes traveled over the silent graveyard and the wind seemed to not blow so furiously, the cold seemed no longer so bone-chilling. She could feel Draco beside her. Drawing up her strength she went on. "I feel like I'm worse than everyone else, honestly. It's truce, that I'm so far beneath them...my friends, my family."

"I feel like I'm not worthy of their love." Her voice cracked. "Because even though they love me, it doesn't mean anything...b-because their opinions don't matter." Tears rolled down her cheeks and her words were coming out in sobs. "They don't know. How could they possibly? They haven't been through what I've been through. They're not some bloody Messiah. _I _am."

Hermione buried her face in her hands, "This whole thing is just all too much. I feel..._I feel like it's going to swallow me whole_."

Tears rolled down her cheeks as Draco pulled her sobbing into his arms.

* * *

"I had once hoped that none of you would have to experience what it was like to kill another human being. But these are evil times. Even I cannot foresee the extent to which good people will be pushed. This morning Miss Granger was pushed. She was forced to question every truth she'd ever known. Her morals and ethics told her that killing another human being was wrong. Her instincts told her 'kill or be killed'..._Hope told her to save the world._ And all the while the poor, confused seventeen year old girl was trapped; being pulled in every direction. Remember today. Today a young woman gave a piece of herself so that your lives would be saved. There can be no return to innocence...for Hermione Granger."

* * *


	33. A Hogwarts Winter Wonderland

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Three: A Hogwarts Winter Wonderland

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13

Pairing: H/Hr AND D/Hr in this chappy

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, but I DO own a very nice shiny ticket to MEXICO! Whoop!

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A/N:  I know this chapter is a little long in coming, but I have two very good reasons.

1. Just two days after my last update my hard drive failed and the entire laptop had to be wiped out.  I lost _everything_ – which definitely bites the big one.  So as of now, the 20 page plot point outline is completely gone and I'm just gonna have to write the rest of the story on the fly.

2.  (Not so traumatic) I just wanted this chapter to be extra-ly long since I won't be able to update again until the 22nd.  I will be in Mexico.  No internet.  But I promise I will be working on it down on the beach and it'll be updated the day of my return.

            The day following Dumbledore's announcement was the beginning of a return to something normal.  No one mentioned Dumbledore's words to Hermione and for all appearances she seemed to know nothing about it.  Hermione's addition to the enemy gravesite, while hard to miss, was also a point of nondiscussion.  It was an unspoken agreement that some matters were better left unsaid.  And some _things_ were better left well enough alone.

            Life at Hogwarts went on.

            Hours turned to days, and days became weeks, leading the world into the middle of October.  Beauxbatons and Durmstrang quickly adapted to their new lifestyle and settled easily into the rhythm of things after the first few days.  No further incidents involving Voldemort had occurred.  Castle and inhabitants were finally allowed to return to normal.

            There was a ball to plan.

            "A giant pumpkin?  You can't be serious."

            "What's wrong with it?"

            Hermione sighed and gave Draco a withering look.  Leaning forward slightly from her position beside the hearth, she prodded the golden poker into dying embers.  The fire flickered back to life.  Draco was draped casually across his personal couch waiting with a bored expression for her eventual reply.  Replacing the poker, Hermione brushed off her hands and turned back to him.

            "Let me get this straight..." she said slowly.  Draco rolled his eyes and glowered at her.  "You want the _actual_ dance floor to be _inside_ a giant _pumpkin_?"

            "Yes."

            "No!"

            "Come on! It's a good idea."

            "No...it's a really, really _bad_ idea." She said simply.  "You're obviously tired; you shouldn't be up this late, Draco."

            Draco glanced at the clock above the mantel piece and gave her an amused look, "It's eleven thirty in the morning, Granger."

            "Your sanity is deteriorating so fast." She replied in all seriousness.

            Draco was about to reply, no doubt with a witty retort, when there was a knock at the door.  Hermione gave a wave of her hand behind her and the common room door drifted open.

            "Show off," Draco muttered good-naturedly from beside her.  She beamed up at him and turned to greet their visitor.

            It was Harry.

            He was bundled from head to toe in warm clothes, a long Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck.  When he saw Hermione, however, lounging beside the fireplace he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

            "Get out of your pajamas Hermione and come outside.  Ron's waiting for us down stairs."

            Hermione groaned and dramatically got to her feet.  "Tell me _why_ I am going outside?"

            "Well it _is_ snowing out..."

            "_Really_?!"  Hermione's face lit up with childlike glee.  She dashed to the window and with the edge of the draperies wiped the fog from the glass.  It was indeed snowing.  Feather-light snowflakes drifted lazily down from a cloudy, gray sky.  The snow on the ground looked at least a foot deep and already students were running about in the fresh powder, throwing snowballs and building snowmen.

             "I'll be right down," She promised, sprinting up the stairs.  "So hurry and get dressed, Draco."

            As he watched the hem of Hermione's silk nightgown disappear behind the curve of the staircase, Harry scowled.  Draco saw it and turned to face the fire.  He settled deeper into the couch, making no reaction towards Harry's slightly hostile "covert" glances.

            A door closed upstairs and the two boys turned their gaze to the stairway as Hermione came pounding down the stairs.  Her thick brown curls were confined to twin braids on either side and covered by a fuzzy maroon cap.  She wore a comfortable looking gray, knit sweater that kept falling off her shoulders, reaching past her fingertips, and flared jeans that were beginning to fade.  She pulled on her jacket, a knee-length brown pea-coat, as she reached the bottom and was in the process of buttoning it up when she noticed Draco was still in his black drawstring pants and white t-shirt.

            She gave a sigh of disappointment, tying her maroon and gold scarf around her neck.  "Hurry upstairs and get dressed," She told him.  "I'm not going to wait forever."

            Draco made no move to get up.  His eyes, however, darted over to meet Harry's.  He cleared his throat and turned away, grabbing the poker once more from its rack beside the fireplace.  "You two go on ahead, I'll meet you down there."

            "Alright," Hermione relented, pulling on her mittens. "But promise me you'll come down; you'll go nutters if you stay cooped up in the common room all day."

            Draco snorted, a smile forming on his lips.  "Who's to say the promise of a Malfoy is worth anything?"

            Harry looked away, but Hermione smiled.  "Why _me_, of course.  Besides, you have to make appearances to keep the fan-base alive."

            Draco smirked. "I don't need to, what with my roommate being my number one fan and all.  I see you every day."

            Hermione laughed out loud, her cheeks tinged pink.  "Dreaming about me again, Draco?  How very flattering."

            Harry's hand was on her arm; an incessant pulling.  "Come on, 'Mione.  Ron'll think we stopped in a closet for a snog." He muttered, as the two passed through the portrait door.

            "Well Ronald should get his mind out of the gutter," drifted softly into the common room as the door drifted shut.

            Walking over to the bookshelves that lined the walls on either side of the larger fireplace, Draco scanned the immaculately organized books for something to read.  Mildly frustrated when he found the potions book he was searching for was absent, he settled instead for a classic: _Hogwarts: A History_.  Folding his tall frame into the window seat, he found a comfortable position and began to read.

            "Come on, Harry!" Hermione giggled, pulling him along as she ran out into the snow.  She dropped his hand and jogged to the middle of the courtyard.  Harry stopped at the bottom of the stone steps, and watched his best friend revel in the winter weather.

            Face turned upward – eyes closed and lips curved into a smile – Hermione lifted her arms and began to spin.  Around and around she turned, opening her eyes to watch the cloud-filled sky swirling above her head.  Her scarf whipped around behind her, following her turns. Tiny white flakes drifted lazily, but steadily, down upon her, and as they kissed the warm skin of her cheeks and face they melted instantly, leaving damp pinpoints across its surface.  Her spin slowed and she lowered her gaze to Harry as she stopped, facing him.  Her scarf drifted to a stop just after, and settled back into its earlier position.

            "Isn't it beautiful, Harry?" Hermione brought her hands down to scoop up a handful of dusty white powder.  Dampness sunk into the palms of her mittens.

            "Yeah, it is." Harry agreed, glancing around the courtyard before turning back.  As the skin of her hands began to tingle, Hermione blew the miniature snow drift off her hands and watched it shower back down upon the ground.

            "I've always loved wintertime the most," She conceded, hoisting herself up onto the stone fountain that served as the courtyard's centerpiece.  "Sure, the others have their fine points, but really they're all the same.  The changes are so few that, for me, they tend to blend together."

            As she spoke she raised her arms to steady herself, and stepped delicately onto the iced over fountain.  Hands crammed in his pockets, Harry strolled down the path as Hermione slowly glided the two or so feet to the fountains center spout.  The water had frozen mid burst.  Finding a handhold on the crystallized plume of ice, she glided gracefully around to face Harry as he approached.

            "But not winter," She went on, running her gloved fingers across the impromptu ice sculpture.  Her smile was soft and warm.  "Water turns to ice.  Frozen rain falls from a gray sky.  Everything becomes white.  Everything goes to sleep."

            Her gaze turned back to the fountain.  "It even does the impossible." She smiled down at Harry leaning against the stone base.  "It can capture a single moment in time."

            Harry grinned loftily, unruly raven locks falling across his eyes. "Like magic."

            Hermione laughed, amber eyes flickering.                                

            A voice stopped her short.  "Hermione? Is that you?"

            Hermione turned to look over her shoulder.  Another person was standing at the entrance to grounds.  They were sporting Gryffindor colors, though, with the obscenely excessive amount of clothes they were wearing, it was hard to tell who the person was.

            "You two had better hurry up or you'll miss all the fun." The Gryffindor called out, waving the pair over.

            Now pretty sure that the lumpy bundle was Neville, Hermione smiled and waved back.  "We're coming!"

            Taking the hand offered to her by Harry, she hopped down off the fountain and the pair made their way onto the grounds at a more leisurely pace than before; arms linked, and feet shuffling through a foot of snow.

Now that Hermione was finally out in the beautiful winter weather she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

            "I wonder where Ron is," Hermione murmured conversationally.  The red-head had been characteristically absent from the entrance hall when the pair had arrived to meet him.  Harry chuckled beside her.

            "You know Ron.  He probably got bored and went on without us."

            As they stepped out of the protection of the stone courtyard they were surrounded by a gentle, icy breeze and a wild flurry of snowflakes.  Two Ravenclaw girls ran past, giggling loudly.

            "Patience is not a virtue Ron possesses." She commented, burying her chin deeper within the warmth of her scarf.  They continued down the make-shift path, created by the trampling of feet, to a valley where the snow was deeper and large hills of it rose up on either side of the trail.

            "Hermione..."

            Hermione stopped her humming and looked up at Harry with a quizzical expression. "Yes?"

            "DUCK!"

            Hermione instinctively dropped to the ground.  She heard Harry land hard beside her as a speeding object went whizzing over their heads.  She lifted herself up slightly and looked around.  She saw Harry do the same.

            "Look out!" She exclaimed.

            Harry caught the next one with Seeker like reflexes, falling backwards over Hermione.  The snowball, however, exploded at the impact showering them both with snow.  Hermione lifted her face from the drift.  Clumps of snow clung to her hair and dangled from her cap.  Freeing a hand, she wiped the soggy slush from her face.

            "Oy, Harry!" She groaned, unable to pull herself from beneath his weight.

            "Sorry, 'Mione." He apologized.  She felt him roll off.  With great relief she got to her hands and knees, then finally back onto her feet.  Brushing the snow from her knees, she straightened and helped Harry up.

            "Well, _that_ was certainly uncalled for." She huffed, looking around.

            "Do you know who it was?" Harry asked, clapping his hands together to knock off excess snow.

            "No," She pursed her lips and turned to give him a look.  "I couldn't really see anything, what with being face first in a snowdrift..." She trailed off pointedly.

            Harry looked sheepish.  He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

            She rolled her eyes and grinned.  Another snowball came hurtling at them, but Harry, who'd been keeping an eye open, easily sidestepped it.  Two more landed at the feet of Hermione, who was now intently scanning the large piles of snow that lined the path.

            A figure appeared at the peak of the left bank and she jumped to the right, crashing into Harry, to dodge the following snowball.

            "Seamus!" She shouted accusingly.

            The boy waved cheekily and disappeared, most likely to grab another snowball.

            "Come on," Harry said, now chuckling with amusement.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him as they ran off the path to the right and began swiftly climbing up the packed snow.  A snowball exploded a few feet in front of them.

            Hermione glanced across the path to the opposite snow drift.  "Neville!?" She exclaimed.

            Harry laughed loudly.

            "Ooo!" She growled threateningly.  "That little sneak led us down here.  He's in _so_ much trouble."

            Harry tugged her up alongside him.  "Threaten him later.  Let's get behind some cover first, okay?"

            Hermione nodded and pushed him forward a bit.  Another snowball hit the ground where they had been only seconds before.  Harry grinned, "Thanks."

            Through hearty laughter the two sprinted up to the top and went tumbling down into a large hole that appeared suddenly before them.  Sliding down the steep slopes, they landed at the bottom in a cloud of disturbed snow.

            Ginny looked up at them and grinned, "Glad to see you made it."

            Amid a barrage of snowballs, Ginny left her post for a few minutes to show Harry and Hermione around.  The main level , which they had fallen onto, was a good eight feet in diameter; large enough to fit five or six people comfortably.  Lining the front half of the circle were iced ledges, where Lavender and Padme were currently perched upon, firing back at the opposite group.

            Ginny led them back to where another hole opened up, leading to a cavernous room beneath the main level. 

            "Snowball storage," She informed them, but didn't bother leading them down.  A blonde head appeared beneath the hole's entrance, and the trio stepped back to give the girl room to climb out.  Hermione was quite surprised when it was Pansy who hoisted herself from the hole.  The Slytherin, who was well known for her changing her hair color more often than a chameleon changed it's skin, was hardly who she'd expected to be surrounded by Gryffindors and in the middle of a snowball fight.

            Harry, unfazed by the girl's appearance, peered back down into the storage room.  When no one else emerged he shook his head.  "Is this an all-girl operation?"

            Hermione glanced at him with a smile, but he didn't seem to feel at all out of place.  _That's Harry for you._

            Ginny made a cursory look around the main level and shook her head, auburn hair sticking to her cheeks, "No.  Justin is out scouting, and my idiot brother got himself captured."

            "How many are on the other side?" Harry asked.

            Ginny ticked off the names on her gloved fingers, "Seamus, Parvati, Blaise, Neville, Luna, Dean, Hannah, Colin, and Dennis."

            Hermione shook her head, "That's nine to our seven.  We're outnumbered."

            She was about to say more, but at that exact moment a snowball cleared the wall and nailed the top of her head.  She shrieked as icy, wet snow slid down the back of her sweater.  Raucous laughter could be heard from across the path and she leapt onto one of the ledges to look over.

            "SEAMUS FINNIGAN!" She shouted.

            The Irish boy gave a mocking salute, "'Ello Hermione."

            "Snowball." She growled.

            Lavender giggled and placed one in Hermione's waiting hand.  Harry appeared beside her, leaning casually over the top of the wall.

            "You're in for it now," he warned his dorm-mate.

            Seamus waved the caution away, looking back over his shoulder to talk to someone behind him.  Drawing back her arm, Hermione threw the packed ball of snow as hard as she could.  Seamus turned back around just in time for it to catch him square in the face.  The force propelled him back and he tumbled backwards, disappearing behind the snow wall.

            Hermione's annoyed expression turned to one of satisfaction.  Dusting off her gloves, she dismounted and said, crisply: "Serves him right."

            "Nice shot!" Ginny complimented as Harry clapped her on the back.

            Hermione grinned, "Now let's rescue this 'prisoner-of-war'."

            An hour and several hundred snowballs later, with forts nearly demolished, the two groups decided to call it quits and seventeen soaked teenagers came spilling out onto the path.  They started out walking en masse up the hill to the castle, but one by one people began breaking off to join another group; ice skating here, a snowman being built over there.

            Soon only the trio of friends was left continuing the trek up through the grounds.  Once again Hermione found herself walking in between the two boys, but she didn't mind.  Their bodies shielded her from the wind, and she was grateful for the knowledge that she wouldn't be the one coming down with a cold. 

            As the two boys talked back and forth over her head about Quidditch and such they crested the hill beside the lake.  Spying a stretch of snow beneath a large oak that was still clean and untrodden upon, Hermione startled Ron and Harry by darting forward and running up to it.

            "Hermione, wha-"

            Spinning around to face them, she lifted her arms and let herself fall back into the soft snow.  Laughing at her own childishness, she dragged her limbs back and forth, packing down the powder beneath her.

            "You look ridiculous," Ron told her, coming to a stop beside her sprawled body.

            She sat up and shook to loose snow from her braids.  He reached down for her and she grabbed his hand.  Taking care not to disturb her impression in the snow, she let him pull her back to her feet then gingerly stepped off to the side.

            "It's a snow angel," She told them proudly.  "When I was little I always used to make these the first snow of the season."

            Ron chuckled, "Well what should we do now?"

            "You getting cold yet?" Harry asked her.

            She shook her head, "A little wet, but I want to stay a little longer.  It's so nice out."

            Harry nodded, looking around at the different goings on across the grounds.  "Well, where to then?"

            Hermione shrugged.  It was Ron who made the suggestion, "Lake?"

            They both agreed, having no other propositions themselves, and the trio headed down to the lake, now covered in ice.   Exchanging their shoes for ice skates, they all squeezed onto one bench and began lacing up their boots.  Cheery, winter music, from an unknown source, filled the air.

Hermione was the first to finish.  Pulling the hems of her jeans back down over her skates she pushed off the bench, hobbled the few feet through snow, and glided out onto the ice.

Ron was next.  Smashing his tasseled cap down tighter on his head he followed in Hermione's blade path and slid a little less gracefully onto the ice.  He made Hermione laugh by skating backwards in a circle around her.  She pushed him gently out of the way and skating serenely back to the bank and skidded to a stop.

"You coming, Harry?"

He nodded, almost regretfully, and got to his feet shakily.  Hermione's brow furrowed slightly in confusion, as she watched him wobble his way down to the lake.  The minute his blades touched the ice his feet slid out from under him and he landed hard on his backside.

Some of the other skaters snickered behind her, but Hermione paid them no mind as she hurried to Harry's side.  She bent over to make sure he wasn't hurt.  "Oh, Harry! Are you alright?"

He grimaced, rubbing his backside.  He was pink in the face and she could tell he was more than a little embarrassed.  "I'm fine." He muttered.

Hermione frowned again, and as Harry struggled to get to his feet, she put the pieces together in her mind.  "You never learned how to ice skate, did you?" She asked him quietly.

The pink in his cheeks darkened to red, "They never took me." He mumbled.

'They' were Harry's aunt and uncle, the Dursleys.  A nasty lot, in Hermione's opinion.  They treated Harry like dirt – that is when they weren't pretending that he didn't exist at all.  Unfortunately for Harry, he had no choice but to spend his summers with them each year, and the experience, while always less than savory, was appearing to get worse every year.

It was no surprise that Harry hadn't learned to ice skate, for the Dursleys never took him anywhere, and Hermione mentally berated herself for not thinking of the possibility earlier.  At least then, she could have saved Harry some unnecessary embarrassment.

Grabbing his hands, she helped pull him to his feet.  Smiling softly, she gripped his arms firmly, keeping him upright.  "Well, now seems as good a time as any to learn.  Don't you think so?"

"Really?" He voiced in surprise.  "You'd do that?"

"Of course!" She beamed.

Her fingers slid down his arms until they held his hands once more, and much to Harry's protest, she began to pull him along behind her as she skated backwards along the edge of the lake.

"No, Hermione – wait, no – please..."

"It's alright, Harry.  One foot in front of the other."

"This is a lot harder than flying a broom," he griped.

Hermione chuckled, "Says you.  Don't hurt yourself, Ron" She called out to the red-head, who was currently racing Goyle across the lake.  Her eyes never left Harry.

"Hermione..."

"It's just long strides.  Here, we'll count."  She dropped one of his hands to glide back to his side.  He teetered nervously at the sudden loss of support.

"It goes 1, 2, 3 step, alright?" She explained.  She gripped his hand tightly, "We'll start with the right foot, okay?  Are you ready?"

"No!"

Hermione stepped forward with her right skate, forcing him to mimic her actions, and counting slowly. "1...2...3."

"1...2...3," Harry mumbled along with her.

"Step." She set down her left foot while lifting her right and began the count once more, "1...2...3."

Harry followed her lead, and the two began to skate around the lake.  He picked it up quickly, being quite the quick learner, and the pair was soon circling the ice at a decent pace.

"Thanks, Hermione." He told her, after they had skated for a good half hour.  He spun her around slowly, both of them drifting closer to the center of the lake.

She flushed, "It was my pleasure, Harry."

The day's exertion had started taking its toll on her, and all of her layers had trapped the generated heat.  Her face was flushed from the cold, yet she could feel the sweat beading on her temple.  She wanted desperately to wipe it away, but the way Harry was holding her hands made her hesitant to remove them.  She felt suddenly nervous at their closeness.

"Harry?"

His head jerked back swiftly, and she realized just how close their faces had been.  She exhaled slowly, her breath fogging in the cold.  "What is it?" She asked softly.

Harry let out a ragged breath and dropped her hands, "Nothing." He murmured.  His eyes wouldn't meet hers and she watched him slide backwards slightly on the ice.  "I'm just a little tired.  I think I'm gonna sit out for a while."

"A-Alright..." Was all she managed, before he turned and skated away.  She watched him leave with mixed thoughts.  Had Harry been about to kiss her? She wasn't allowed to dwell on it though, because only moments later a hand clasped her own.

She whirled around in surprise, and her face broke into a smile.  "Draco!"

In the thrill of the snowball fight, she'd completely overlooked his absence.  She frowned a bit, "I didn't think you were going to come."

 _Neither did I._  He smirked and pulled her out to the center of the lake, "I made a promise didn't I?"

She glared at his mockery, "Better late than never, I suppose." She conceded.

"I feel like dancing, what do you say?"

Hermione cocked her head slightly, for the first time actually _listening_ to the music being played.  She smiled.  She'd done a lot of silly things since stepping out into the snow, what was one more? 

"Why not," She agreed.  Placing her hands in his, she laughed, amused, as he pulled them both gallantly forward and spun her around. 

They both wobbled around a bit, trying to find a way to dance in ice skates, before finally settling into a comfortable waltz, filled with spins, twirls, and glides.

"I still think the pumpkin is a good idea.  It's _themed_." Draco joked.  He spun her out at arms length then pulled her back again.

Hermione chuckled as she collided softly with his chest, "I don't think the girls would appreciate their gowns reeking of rotting vegetable."

She pulled away, dropping his hand, spinning tight circles in time to the music.  Draco let her go for a moment before skating up and stopping her with an arm around her waist.

"Do you have another idea?" He asked.

"I do," She replied.  "And a better one at that." Draco rolled his eyes, and pushed her away.  Knowing that she would follow him, he started off towards the opposite side of the lake.  She caught up with him, and the two glided gracefully back and forth beside each other.

"What is it?"

She sped up their leisurely pace and swerved in front of him, spinning around to face him as she skated backwards.  "What about a floating dance floor, out here on the grounds?"

"Well isn't that _magical_," he taunted.

Hermione scoffed, "And your _giant_ pumpkin isn't?"

"Duly noted," He relented. 

Hermione glided to a stop, and Draco began to circle her.  "Have we even decided if it's going to be a masquerade or not?"

"It is."

Draco made a face. "Says _who_?"

"Says me." At Draco's disgusted expression she went on, "Oh, come on, Draco, it has to be.  Halloween just wouldn't be the same without it."

He scowled, but yielded to her pleas.  "Alright, alright."

She jumped at him mid-circle, wrapping her arms around his neck.  "You're the best!"

Smirking, he grabbed one of her hands and wrapped his arm around her waist, "I know." He agreed.

"Draco, what—"

A livelier tune began just in time as Draco led her in a tango-esque dance across the lake.  She laughed at their antics as he spun her around and dipped her low to the ice.  Flush-flashed and bright eyed, he pulled her back up and continued their course.

"We look ridiculous," She exclaimed as he dipped her once more.

He smirked, "You're right.  We should stop."

Hermione barely had time to register the mischievous look on his face before his arms released her and she fell onto her backside upon the ice.  Wincing at the throbbing pain in her rump, she scowled up at Draco only to find him calmly skating away.

"Draco Malfoy!" She shouted after him, getting to her feet.  "Get back here!" With quick bursts she hastily closed the gap between them.  Draco glanced over his shoulder, and at finding her so close picked up his own speed.  He grinned at her.

The chase was on.

He went speeding across the lake, dodging other skaters, Hermione hot on his heels.  He heard the disgruntled cries of upset skaters as Hermione pushed through them and chuckled.

"Yeah, you better run!" She shouted from behind him.  The empty threat only made him laugh harder.  Serpentining faster, he led her on a merry chase all across the lake.

Just when he thought he'd lost her, something warm and soft collided with his side and sent them both flying into a lakeside snow bank.

Hermione's small form was sprawled across his own.  They were both panting heavily from exertion, and it didn't appear as though she could get up, even if she tried.

"Caught...you..." She huffed, lifting her face from his chest.  She took in several large gulps of air, trying to steady her breathing.

"Pure...luck..." He huffed back.  She punched his shoulder.

"I'm tired..." She said, this time with a great deal less panting.  With a dramatic flourish she let her head fall back down onto her arms now folded across his chest.

"Busy day?" He snorted.

"Yes." She mumbled.

They both fell silent, feeling oddly warm in the cold snow.  Long minutes passed and neither of them made any move to get up or to even speak.  Then, against her will, Hermione opened her mouth.

"Draco?"  His eyes were closed and she feared he'd fallen asleep.

Sharp gray-blue eyes locked with hers, startling her, "Hmm?"

"Do you remember the argument we had...that night I left for France?"

He was silent for a moment, "Yeah."

"I-I just wanted to tell you...I'm sorry.  I had no reason to yell at you like that."

"You had reasons."

She frowned, "But not the right." She sat up slightly.  "I want to apologize for that."

Draco sat up suddenly, and Hermione tumbled down into his lap.  "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"No reason," She insisted.  She was less than convincing.

Draco looked down at her suspiciously, "What happened?"

She shook her head, thick chocolate braids thumping against her neck, "Nothing...I..." She sighed.  "There was...an _incident_...with Hope..."

She looked up at him with wide amber eyes, "I thought I'd never see you again." She told him earnestly.

"I couldn't stand you being mad at me forever; never being able to apologize for the terrible things I said to you."

Draco was silent, his hawk-like eyes boring into hers.

"I wanted to tell you when I got back, but...there never seemed to be the time...and I..." She trailed off, having run out of things to say.

"Are you hungry?"

She blinked at him in surprise, "W-What?"

"You missed lunch.  I was asking if you were hungry." He said, a trace of his usual smirk gracing his lips.

She smiled nervously, "A-A little."

"Alright then." He stood up and pulled her to her feet as well.  "We can go down to the kitchens."

"Wait," She looked back over her shoulder and Draco stopped walking.

"What is it?"

Hermione shook her head.  Harry and Ron were gone.  "Nothing.  Nevermind." She smiled warmly up at him, "Let's go."

Draco waited for her to catch up, and then they began the long walk up to the castle.  Hermione walked close to his side, stealing some of his warmth while participating in a lighter conversation.

"I think the weather's right for a nice cup of hot cocoa.  Don't you think, Draco?"

He nodded.  "Indeed.  I may have one myself."

"With marshmallows?" She asked innocently.

Draco chuckled, "Of course." He agreed, "With marshmallows..."

A lot of my previous chapters have all been high-strung with a whole bunch of major events going on, so I thought I'd slow it down a bit with a nice wintertime bit of pointless fluff.

I hope you liked it.  There'll be a fresh chapter on the 22nd.


	34. Just Another Normal Day

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Four: Just Another Normal Day

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13

Pairing: D/Hr; I know there hasn't been much action here, but I'm actually trying to focus on the plotline a little more (for once!) Something big is coming though for our lovely duo – I promise!!

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, but I am now the very proud owner of a snack sized box of 'ZUCARITAS' – a very tasty Mexican substitute for Frosted Flakes.  Yum yum.

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A/N:  I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! You missed me, right?  I'm sorry I couldn't get it up the 22nd like I'd promised, but there were so many delays with out flights and try as I might I couldn't get it all typed up by midnight.  So here it is now...at 1:44 AM on the 23rd of June.

Enjoy!

            Nearly a week had passed since the first snow.  It hadn't stopped either.  The October climate was perfect for the new bout of weather.  It was breezy and cool in the mornings, and didn't really warm up until near dinnertime when it would begin to melt the day's accumulated snow.  Then every morning it would snow again, replacing what was lost.  It was a continuing cycle.  A perfect day, every day.

            Hermione paused on her way to lunch to examine her reflection in a suit of armor.  She clicked her tongue against her teeth.  During long study sessions she had a nasty habit of twisting her hair around her finger.  Now it was a disheveled mess. 

Pulling out her ponytail she fished her wand from her robe pocket.  Waving it at her hair she muttered a spell Lavender had told her about.  It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud, but it was supposed to work so she gave it a chance.  She bent down to survey they result of the styling charm in the suit of armor.

"A chiffon..." She said to herself, "Classy."

Restoring her wand, she continued down to the Great Hall.  The suit of armor creaked and waved goodbye.

She had actually made good time from war strategies and around just as the food began to appear on their golden platters.  She slid into her place between Harry and Ron just as Dumbledore began the afternoon's announcements.  She only half-listened to them.  Something about the third-years.  Durmstrang "outraged" that Dumbledore has "kidnapped" half their students – of course, that had been expected.  Then something about new arrivals and Hermione tuned the rest out.

She was feeling exceptionally hungry that night and was halfway through the act of spooning more mashed potatoes onto her plate when Dumbledore took his seat.  She stomped her foot as a substitute for applause and finished with the bowl of potatoes.  Harry and Ron finished clapping and turned back to the table to find Hermione's plate almost overflowing with food.

"My, we're hungry tonight," Harry commented teasingly.

Hermione glared at him and dropped a chicken leg on her plate, "Shut up."

Ron laughed and she turned to her other side to glare at him as well.  Still laughing he reached over her plate to grab the shepherd's pie.

"I like your hair," He said.

Her expression of annoyance turned to one of startlement.  Her hand shot reflexively up to touch the twist of her hair.  She was surprised he had noticed.

"Uh, thanks," She said finally, and turned back to her plate. 

Looking at it now, it did seem a bit much.  She never ate that much at one sitting, save for Thanksgiving.  By the looks of her plate it seemed Turkey Day had come a month early.  The sight of all that food should have made her sick, but stead she felt her stomach rumbling and her mouth salivating.

"Tuck in!" She told the boys jovially and proceeded to do just that.

Three goblets of pumpkin juice and half an hour later, the food was cleared away and Hermione was left feeling pleasantly full.  Needless to day, Ron and Harry had been hard pressed to keep up with their friend's sudden passion for food.  They were holding their stomachs as if doing so would keep them from getting sick all over the Gryffindor table.

"Merlin, woman!" Ron groaned, bending over slightly.

Hermione's cheeks were turning a rose pink in embarrassment, "No one said you had to eat everything I did."

"And be out-eaten by a girl," Harry snorted.  "I think not."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Well I need to talk to Draco about some prefect business so I'll just have dessert over there."

As she said the word 'dessert' her friends' faces turned a bit green.

"No! Mercy!" Harry cried dramatically.

"Please, no more!" Echoed Ron, "You win!"

She gave them an indignant look and walked off to the Slytherin table feeling more than a little put out.  She smiled at Viktor and Fleur as she passed the newly erected guest tables, but that was the extent of her good nature at the moment.  Pansy saw her coming and made a small smile before sliding over to give her the seat on Draco's left.

"Thanks, Pans," She sighed, too irate to utter the last syllable.  They were nearly friends, right?  And friends gave each other nicknames, right? There.  That was her excuse.

Draco was looking at her in bored amusement, "Yes?"

"Harry and Ron are being mean," She huffed.  Childish. 

She looked around the table, idly.  "Hey! You guys get better desserts than we do." Even more childish.

Draco grinned, "I'm sure there are reasons for that."

"Oh, cake!"

Cake always makes you feel better.  _Chocolate_ cake even more so.  She reached over and grabbed the plate of chocolate cake from beneath Draco's raised fork, and, upon seeing that she had no silverware, stole his fork as well.  Pansy snickered and left the table. Hermione took the first bite slowly, relishing the taste.  Draco quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, Granger," He said slowly. "You may have my cake."

Hermione wiped her mouth with a napkin and grinned.  Scooping up another piece of cake she waved it at Harry and Ron, giving them a cheeky wave.  They both covered their mouths and bolted from the Great Hall.

Draco saw them leave and turned back to Hermione who had already devoured the piece of cake.  "What was that about?"

She shrugged innocently, "Couldn't stomach their lunch I guess."

She reached for Pansy's abandoned goblet and took a deep swig to wash down the rich, chocolate-y aftertaste.  Her throat burned and she coughed loudly into her napkin.  Her eyes watered a bit.

"Oh, boy is that _not_ what they're serving over at my table." She gasped.

Draco chuckled, "Pansy likes her drinks stronger than pumpkin juice."

"Duly noted," She choked, the alcohol still burning the back of her tongue.

"Here," Draco handed her his goblet and she took a long, grateful drink of it then handed it back.

"Thanks."

He nodded, "So what are you doing over here anyway.  Besides eating my cake and getting drunk, of course."

"Prefect meeting," She said.  "We're having one tonight to go over the rough sketch of the ball."

Draco made a face.

"It's only a week away you know," She reprimanded him sharply, leaning over to swipe some frosting off his newly acquire piece of cake.

"Alright, let's do it in the Prefect's bathroom then." He said, smacking her hand away from his dessert.

Her face bore a very puzzled expression, "Whatever for?" She exclaimed.

Draco smirked, licking chocolate frosting from his lips, "Because.  I need a bath."

Hermione snorted, "Whatever.  I don't have a problem with it, as long as you're wearing swim trunks."

He pouted.  His hair fell over his eyes and Hermione's hands itched to brush it back.  Instead she stood from the table.  "It's my free period now, so I'm going to head back to the common room for a nap.  I'm a bit tired."

"Dream of me," He called after her as she walked away.

"Whatever, Malfoy." She called back.  "Prefect meeting after dinner.  Don't forget."

            Hermione stood on the shore under an emerald-black fringe of trees.  The black lake lapped and rolled away into the dark.  The moon hung high and silver in the sky.  The light it cast made glittering patterns on the water.  A man rose from the lake, water was streaming in silver lines from his hair and shirt.  His shoulder-length black hair clung wetly to the sides of his face.  The dark shirt clung to his body.  He held out his hand to her.

            She was wearing a long, stark white dress.  It was heavy and hung around her like a weight.  She'd never in her life owned such a dress.  A heavy cloak was pushed back over her shoulders, held together by a loose knot.  It was autumn and the moon was full overhead.

            The man said, "Come to me."

            Hands came from behind her, shoving her roughly forward.  She stumbled off the shore and sank into the water.  It filled the skirt of her dress, soaking into the cloak.  Water-logged, the heavy swatch of cloth began to sink, threatening to drown her.  With frantic fingers she struggled to remove the cloak while still keeping her head above the surface.  She didn't know how it had gotten so deep.  She'd never noticed. 

The knot, that had felt so loose around her neck only moments before, was now soaked making it tight and unyielding.  As she tore away at it she felt as if her fingernails were splintering.  She finally ripped the cloak off, letting it sink out of sight.  She coughed violently, trying to force the water that had seeped down her throat from her lungs.  The long, blonde strands of her hair fell over her eyes, ends already an immeasurable distance beneath the water.

            Wait.  Hermione wasn't blonde.

            The water was warm as bath water.  Warm as blood.

            Very slowly, Hermione raised her hand to the moonlight, and the liquid that streamed down it was thick and dark and had never been water.

            Hermione floated in the near-shallows in a dress that she had never imagined, by a shore she did not know, and stared at the beautiful man as he moved towards her, graceful and covered in blood.

            Hermione woke gasping for air, hands clutching at the sheets like a lifeline.  It was like she couldn't get enough air.  Great, greedy gulps.  Her throat burned as she forced oxygen down into her lungs.  She was dizzy and her head was reeling.  The dream had felt so real.  The blood so warm.

            The blood.  Bile rose in her throat and she flung herself off the side of the bed.  Making it to the bathroom just in time, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.

            She closed her eyes, half bent over the toilet, as the last shudders passed through her.  She had waited for the horrifying images to fade away, for bits and pieces to slip through the cracks, as the edge grew fuzzy.  She waited for the dream to fade as dreams do.  It did not.

            The lake, the man, and the moon were all still sharp and clear in her mind.  As if it was an actual event, a memory that had presented itself while she slept.

            Climbing from her knees she turned the faucets of the sink.  Fresh, cold water blasted out.  She found herself automatically looking down before cupping her hands beneath the jet stream.  She lifted the makeshift bowl up to her face and glanced at her rippling reflection.

            No blood.  Just crystal clear H20.  She shivered slightly and splashed her face.  The water was cool and soothing against her flushed skin.  Liquid dribbled down her cheeks and over the curve of her lips.  She licked them to keep the counter from being splattered.

            She tasted salt, diluted, but the tanginess still filled her mouth.  She splashed her face again and dragged a white washcloth beneath the water.  She mopped it along her hairline and across the back of her neck.  The nerve endings there sent icy chills down her spine.

            So her body was no longer feeling the shock of her "dream".  That didn't stop her mind from being a jumbled mess of confusion.  She leaned against the counter.  The marble top dug into her palm.  The other hand held the cool rag to the back of her neck.

            She'd killed people; blood was no stranger to her.  But this had been completely different.  She'd bathed in a lake of blood.  She'd waded in it.  Swam in it.  She'd _swallowed _it.

            She glanced up into the mirror.  Her face was deathly pale.  Gaunt.  She was trembling.  It had been warm.  So warm.  So _comforting_.  She swallowed hard, audible, and turned from her reflection.

            Then she froze suddenly, not even daring to breathe.  She strained her mind, but the sound she was searching for was not there.  She waited, stone-still, for five more minutes.  Her body protested, but still she did not move.

            Hope should be laughing.

            Let's all have a giggle at the pathetic human.  Look how weak she is.  Can't stand a little blood without turning sour.  _How silly_.

            There was no laughter.

            All Hermione felt was a sad, dark emptiness.

            Slipping off her nightgown she locked the bathroom door and slipped beneath the beam of the shower. 

            No blood.

            By some mysterious annoyance or inside joke, she and Draco shared the same bathroom.  The doors in their rooms and common room all led to the same place; the only explanation for which being _magic_.  But no matter the reason for it, Hermione didn't want him barging in whilst she was showering.

            The warm water felt good.  Too good.  Her hands twisted the knobs until she was drenched in freezing cold water.  At once her teeth began to chatter.  Her body shook, trying to generate heat.  The fading tan of her skin took on a blue hue, the veins in her hands and arms becoming more prominent.

            But she could still feel the thick, warmth of blood coating her skin, and she scrubbed violently to rid herself of the feeling.  Harder and harder until she could only feel a faint throbbing pain all across her body.  Pain.  Pain was good.  It cleared your head, gave you sharper clarity.

            She turned off the water and emerged from the shower, dripping but feeling finally clean.  She dried off with a fluffy maroon towel and walked to the mirror.  Her curls were tight from being wet and they stuck to her cheeks and back.  Her skin was barely a shade lighter than her towel.  It shone bright and pink beneath the harsh lights.  She'd rubbed her skin raw.

            The fiery feeling was gone, but the stench was not.  The acrid stench of blood filled her nose.  The vanilla scent of her shampoo was too faint to cut through it.  She dug through her drawers, searching, but all of her perfumes were flowery and far too weak to make any difference.  Then, on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, she spied a small golden bottle.  It was Draco's cologne.  She sprayed it twice above her head, and the thick, soothing smell of sandalwood and cinnamon draped over her like a blanket, completely smothering the bloody smell.

            Now the only thing left were the haunting images in her mind.  But no amount of water or cologne was going to drive them away.

            That was how Draco found her nearly an hour later.  Skin still tinged a light pink, she sat hunched against the far wall, beneath the curving stairway, and stared glassy-eyed at the fire dancing almost too cheerily in its hearth against the opposite wall.  He wouldn't have seen her at all if it hadn't been for her shadow peeking out form the darkened corner.

            "Hermione?"  No answer.

            He crouched down in front of her and tried again.  "Hermione? Are you all right?"

            She blinked, startled out of her meditation as a sudden shape blocked the flickering flames from sight.  She blinked several more times, clearing the glazed look from her eyes, and turned her face to Draco.  She'd missed what he had said.

            "Hmm?"  To her own ears, her voice cam out incredibly loud.  To Draco it was soft and hushed.

            "I asked if you were alright."  He repeated.  His eyes widened.  "My God, Hermione!  Your hands!"

            He covered her pinkened hands with his own.  He pushed up the sleeve of her sweater.  Harsh red splotched disappeared beneath the bunched cloth where the skin had not yet faded to pink.  Something crinkled beneath his fingertips and he drew his hands back.  The sleeve of her sweater fell back down to her wrist.

            There was a letter clutched in her hands.

            "Hermione! What's happened?"

            Was that worry in his voice?  Hermione couldn't tell.  She couldn't hear over the sobs.  A small girl was hunched beside her.  She couldn't have been more than ten years old.  Long, golden-blonde hair spilled over quaking shoulders, spilling into a pool across the floor.  Her legs were drawn up to her bare chest.  Tiny arms wrapped around her knees, one delicate hand clasped over the other.  The girl's heart-shaped face was buried in her knees, long hair falling like a curtain around her, shielding her face from sight.  She was crying.

            Hermione licked her lips.  There was still salt on them.  Her throat was thick and she couldn't seem to form any coherent words.  Finally, she managed: "Nothing...just a dream."

            He reached out to tough her shoulder, and his hand passed straight through the girl's head.  Hermione stared at it dumbly.  A robe covered spear.  The girl made no movement, no sign of discomfort or pain.  She just kept crying.  He couldn't see her.

            "Was it bad?" He asked quietly. 

She looked up into his clear blue-gray eyes.  He was worried about her.  She hadn't been wrong.  A lock of white-blonde hair fell over those worried eyes.  Despite everything, she felt a smile tugging at her lips.  She lifted a hand and brushed his bangs back with gentle fingers.  She tucked them behind his ear then let her hand fall from his face.  He was confused.  Her smile was gone.

"Something's wrong with Hope," She said quietly.

He took a moment to let her words sink in.  His next question was a surprise, even to himself.  "Are _you_ alright?"

The dumb-founded look was on her face again.  "She's in pain," was all she managed to say in reply.

He was scowling.  At himself?  At her?  Probably at her stupidity.  His hands were on her shoulders still and he shook her a little.  "What about _you_, Hermione.  Are you okay?"

"For the moment," Her lips felt sluggish.

"Damn it, Hermione!" He cursed.  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged.  He was angry.  Angry?  Why?  Draco sat fuming for several minutes, but said no more.  Hermione fell back into her trance-like, meditative state.  Flames reflected in her eyes unseeing.  The girl cried.

Bricks and mortar.  Bricks and mortar and magic.

She was building a wall.

"We need to tell the Order."

Hermione slowly drew back form her self-induced trance.  Draco noticed the change immediately.  Her amber eyes were bright and clear, her skin was back to mocha, and when she spoke her voice was steady and competent.

"I agree," She replied crisply, no longer whispering.  "But not yet."

"Hermione," His tone was stern, and his hair was back over his eyes.  "Whatever is happening to Hope could hurt _you_.  We have no idea what kind of hold She has over you."

"I understand that Draco, but there's nothing we can do about it at the moment.  I need information first.  Can you deliver this letter to Professor Lupin?"

He looked down at the slightly crumpled envelope she was holding out to him.  He stared at her hard.

"What did you do, Hermione?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do.  Cut the bullshit, 'Mione.  I want to know what you've done."

She flinched as he spat the crude words at her.  She lifted her chin defiantly, "I've locked to dream behind a mental wall."

The breath left his mouth in a rush, "You can't repress your memories."  She didn't bother correcting him.  "You'll end up hurting yourself."

"I'm not repressing," She shot back, hotly.  Childish.

"You need to deal with it.  Work through it."

"I did deal with it.  You saw my arms..." She trailed off.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "You're scaring me..." He confessed earnestly.

Though probably not the response he'd been waiting for, it made Hermione smile, "I scare myself sometimes."

She crawled out form beneath the stairs and stood up.  Draco straightened as well.  He took the letter from her and slid it into the pocket of his robes,

"How bad is it..." He asked, looking up.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "Pretty bad."

"Any idea why?"

She shook her head, "I've got a few theories, none of which I care to shared until I've found out more."

"The letter?"

"The letter."

Draco nodded and they both started towards the portrait hole.  "Where are you headed?"  Hermione asked, as if the morning had been nothing out of the ordinary.

"Arithmancy.  And you?"

"Dueling on the grounds with Moody and Tonks."

"But there's two feet of snow!"

She snorted derisively, "Do you think they care?"

Draco stopped just outside the common room.  His hand was on the portrait, holding it open for her.  He cleared his throat.  His face was a mask of seriousness.  "Don't let things get too out of hand before you tell the Order."

Her smile was sad, "You should go deliver that letter."

She stepped out beside him and he released his hold on the portrait.  "You can feel Hope can't you?" He asked suddenly.

Hermione nodded once.  Down.  Up.  "Yes."

"What is She doing right now?"

She glanced back at the common room as the door drifted shut.  Hands pushing roughly at her back.  The weight of her cloak pulling her under.  The handsome man that had felt so wrong.  Long, blonde hair dragging through bloody waters.

Hermione turned back to Draco, "She's crying..."

            Hermione pulled herself from the snow-covered ground, wand in hand.  Tonks had not fared as well.  She was face down in the snow and she wasn't moving.  As Moody hobbled through the snow to revive the battered shape shifter, Hermione took the momentary lapse in training to warm herself.

            Pulling off her gloves, she held them in her mouth while she summoned a small, flickering flame into her cupped palms.  It spread out across her hands, licking tendrils around her fingers and engulfing the icy skin of her hands.  It danced along the cuffs of her sweater without burning.

            Tonks struggled to her feet, but moody held her down.  Words were exchanged that Hermione could not hear from that distance, but she surmised that she would not be fighting Tonks again.

            Moody was walking towards her, the 'thumping' of his wooden leg muffled by the snow.  The fire felt warm on her hands.  Warm as blood.  She shook her head roughly to rid herself of the thought.

            "Very impressive, Miss Granger," Moody said gruffly.  "Tonks isn't quite up for another round just yet.  So, it looks like you're out a sparring partner for the moment."

            "I understand," She mumbled awkwardly around the gloves in her mouth.  She flushed in embarrassment.  "Will I be getting another partner, sir?"

            He nodded, "Me."

            Hermione wished she hadn't said anything.

            With lightening fast movements that belied his elderly appearance, Moody's wand was out and aimed at her chest.  Surprised, the gloves dropped from her open mouth.  The fire in her hands crackled and went out.  Her wand was in her hand before Moody had called his first attack.

            The Disarming Spell hit the snow just wide of her body as she dodged to the side.  The magic hit the snow with force sending a thick white cloud billowing outwards.  Hermione jumped back, putting distance between them.

            "Expelliarmus."

            The snow was still raining down.  She couldn't see to dodge.

            "Protego!"  She shield went up around her as the shimmering energy cut through the snow.  It hit the magical shield and bounced back towards its caster.  She saw Moody echo her spell.  The Disarming Spell hit the barrier and dissipated.

            He was advancing again.  She needed more space.  Aiming her wand down at her feet she blasted two more clouds of snow into the air.  She jogged backwards keeping her wand up the entire time.

            "Expelliarmus!"

            The spell hit her wand arm with such force it spun her around, but she maintained a grip on her wand.  Apparently, his magical eye was more helpful than she had anticipated.  She wasn't going to be able to rely on distractions or barriers.

            She took a step backwards and felt her balance falter.  Her back was to the lake.  He was going to force her onto the ice where she'd be at a disadvantage.  She did it for him.  Taking several steps backwards she lifted her wand.

            "Lumos!"

            She didn't aim at him.  Light wasn't going to hurt him.  She aimed at his _feet_.  The spell danced across the stark white snow and reflected in a dazzling display of light that filled the entire grounds with a pulsating, golden aura.  Moody gave a shout as he was blinded.  She wasn't sure if this counted for his magical eye as well, but she figured the confusion of one eye darting all over the place while the other was unseeing had the possibility of being just as bad.

            She lifted her arms into the air, not waiting for the light to recede, and called forth the magic inside herself.  The amber of her eyes began to seep into the whites, golden light flickering.  The gentle breeze began to pick up around her, stirring the hem of her robes and tossing her curled ponytail.  It roared in her ears as it picked up speed, and she slid backwards on the ice. 

She pinpointed Moody's shadowed figure in the fading light and unleashed her rising torrent upon him.  The air around her became still as the invisible hurricane tore away from her, the disturbed explosions of snow being the only indicator of its violent path.  A veteran of war, the trail her whirlwind created was enough.  With one arm shielding his eyes he constructed another shield.  The wind, however, was natural.  She hadn't created it, only amplified it.  The Shielding Charm would have no effect.

The wind crashed into him, lifting him off the ground and twisting him head over feet.  Turning her open palm towards Moody's trapped form she pulled her fingers into a fist, gesturing to her creation to bring its prey to her.  The whirlwind obeyed.  Cutting through the snow it slid down the slope and stopped, hovering at the lake's edge.  Then it died, as abruptly as it had risen, dropping Moody unceremoniously onto the ice.

As the magic that she had exerted disappeared, Hermione staggered forward.  She took in a deep ragged breath.  She felt weak and dizzy.  She took another slow breath to calm herself.  She shouldn't have expended so much energy in one go.  She'd have to finish this duel now or risk being run into exhaustion.

"Glacius!"

She pointed her wand in a circle around Moody.  Giant, crystal spikes shot up from the iced lake.  Moody was attempting to dodge them, but the ice pillars weren't there to hurt him, only to trap him.  When he was successfully "caged" and her spell finished, Hermione fell to her knees.  Her breathing was shallow.  Her strength was seeping away.  She couldn't think of what had drained her so completely.  She could barely think at all.  _Something was wrong_.

Lights shot up into the overcast sky as Moody struggled to free himself.  The icy prison held.  Hermione fell to her side.  She could see the auror through a hole between spikes.  She needed more energy, but she couldn't risk him casting a spell at her.  She might not have the strength to "change" it.

"Sorry," She mumbled, through he couldn't hear her, and weakly lifted her wand.  "Revoco."

Moody disappeared from sight.  She heard an echoing 'thud' as his body hit the ice, then her spell was flying back to her.  The golden-green energy hit her hard, her body not being strong enough to counter the shock, and pushed her back several feet.  Sparkling, golden-green energy.  _Life energy_.  It coursed through her body, filling her with strength.  She got to her feet, but it wasn't for long.

An invisible force swiped at her legs, kicking them out from under her.  She fell painfully onto her backside.  She hadn't even heard the spell.  But when she looked up she saw Moody hanging halfway out of the Crystallized tiers, his wand raised.  He hit her again before she could raise a shield and she was sent sliding backwards.  Flailing wildly, she tried to slow her progression across the lake.  The friction in her legs and rump was beginning to burn.  The spell flipped her over and sent her bouncing the last several feet.

Sprawled out on her stomach in the middle of the lake, Hermione slowly lifted her head.  She couldn't even rest and let the pain pass through her.  Warmth trickled down her cheek and she glanced down to see crimson beads splatter on the ice.  Lifting a bare hand, she tentatively touched her forehead.  A decent sized gash bisected her left temple.  Her fingers came away smeared a bright red.  Blood red.  Thankfully, this time, she managed to keep the memories of her dream from rising.  Her head throbbed.  Apparently, Moody didn't take kindly to being imprisoned.

Lifting her wand hand, and steadying it with the other, she aimed just beneath Moody's squirming body, "REDUCTO!"

From the distance now between them Moody surely saw the jet of magic coming towards him.  It seemed, however, that while the whole he had discovered proved wide enough for his torso, it appeared too narrow for his lower half.  She watched as he tried to wriggle his way out, but he could not go forward, nor could he go back.  He was effectively stuck.

The spell hit the crystal wall head on, reducing it to nothing more than miniscule motes of ice.  Hermione wondered if he'd shielded himself in time.  Of course the Shield Charm wouldn't have worked, since the spell wasn't directly attacking him, but there were other protections charms he could have called on.

She sagged slightly.  Already the stolen energy was being eaten away.  The sound of shifting ice drew her attention back to the duel at hand, and she got to her feet as quickly as she could manage on the slippery ice.  Moody was pulling himself over the large pieces of broken ice. 

He had erected a protection of some sort, but evidently not soon enough.  His nose was bleeding and his left arm stuck out oddly at the elbow.  His movements were sluggish though, the result of the life energy she'd drained from him.  His action and reaction times were cut down to a good half of their original, and she'd use that to her advantage.

She lifted her wand, but a wave of dizziness washed over her.  Her arm was like a lead weight.  It started to drop.  Delayed reaction time or no, Moody didn't miss her lowered defenses and took the opportunity to attack.

Her memory was fuzzy.  Her gaze was foggy.  She shook her head trying to clear it.  She only succeeded in making it throb harder.  How had she run through Moody's life energy so quickly?  It should have lasted for _hours_.

She heard the Disarming Spell before she ever got to see it.  It whistled shrilly as it sped across the lake's surface.  She turned, as if in slow motion, to meet the attack.  It surged upwards and plowed into her gut.  She felt her feet leave the ground as it lifted her up into the air.

_Wings...I need wings..._

Hermione reached down into her very core, where Hope's brilliant gold energy resided.  In her mind's eye she saw the floating sphere of energy.  The shine of power was gone from it, turning the energy a dull saffron color.  She reached farther, her fingertips grazing the surface.  The sphere shied away from her touch.

Her body hit the ice, jarring Hermione from inside herself.  The ice cracked.  It was a loud and terrifying sound.  The surface split beneath her and ice began to tip inwards with her weight.  Freezing water soaked into her back.  She was having trouble regaining her breath from the impact.  Fear gripped her as the ice around her feet cracked and separated from the mainland.  Moody was hobbling towards her, wand still raised as if wary of her actions.  She was terrified.  She scrambled to pull herself onto the solid ice.  Her fingernails scraped the surface.  The ice crumbled beneath her desperate hands.

Hope?"  There was no answer.  "Hope?!"

She strained to search her mind for the deity, but panic was tearing her focus in two.  She couldn't get to safety and search for a savior at the same time.  The ice beneath her began to crumble.  The frigid water sloshed over her legs, seeping into her robes.

"Hope?" It was pitiful sounding.  Pleading, begging, but no answer.

Her soaked legs slipped off the chunk of ice that had supported them, pulling her entire lower body down with them.  She cried out as water like ice engulfed her legs and waist.  She was sliding off the islands of ice.  She flung herself at the solid ice as her body slipped into the water.  Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.  Try as she might, she could not pull herself from the lake.  Her legs were turning numb.  She kicked them violently to regain the feeling.

The ice that lined the hole was cracking and crumbling under her weight.  Moody was walking faster now, the confusion evident in his grizzly features.  He didn't understand why she wasn't using her powers to free herself.  Hermione's bare hands were scrambling over the ice trying to find some sort of purchase.  Her elbows dug into the ice in an attempt to keep her from slipping any farther.

One of the tiny icebergs collided with her shoulder.  It jolted her sideways.  Another inch of her body slipped into the water.  Another hit, another inch.  The chunks of ice were trying to recluse the hole.  Her legs were falling asleep again.  She kicked them against one another.  This time it took longer for her to regain any feeling.  The ice was giving Moody a difficult time with his wooden leg; his advance was slow.  Hermione doubted Tonks could even see her.  No one was going to save her.

Someone was crying.  It wasn't Hermione.

Just past her reach, the young, blonde girl was lying, curled in on her side.  She was older now, nearly Hermione's age.  Her long hair draped over her naked body, the ends trailing across the slick ice.  Slender fists were held up to her face trying to staunch the flow of tears from wide, amber glowing eyes.

"Hope!" Tears were now running down Hermione's cheeks.  She reached, straining her fingers, but the girl was just beyond her grasp.  "Hope, please! You can't just let me die."

Her water-laden clothes were dragging her under.  She was losing her grip on the ice.  The tears blurred her vision.  Her teeth chattered.  "Please.  Just take my hand!"

She lifted her hand out to her as the water swelled up around her neck.  The crying girl didn't move.  She was silent now.  Only tears continued to roll down porcelain cheeks.  Hermione struggled to keep her head above water.  A large piece of ice connected with the nape of her neck.  She cried out in pain.  Her head reeled and for a moment she was left seeing double.

"HOPE!"

Crystalline droplets rolled over sugar-pink lips.  "This is your fault," The girl said evenly.

Hermione looked up at her in shock.  She hadn't even moved.  She stared horrified into the girl's eyes as she was pulled under.  Eyes colored gold to the very edges, where salty tears formed.  They were as dull, empty, and lifeless as the eyes of a doll.

Hermione screamed and the ice floated back into place above her head.

            Hermione was sent head over heels through the icy water, twisting and turning until she had no idea where she was.  When she finally stopped spinning she was startlingly aware the she was slowly sinking.  Her hands went to her throat and she quickly unclasped the metal brooch that held her cloak.  She felt the weight slide off her shoulders as her cloak sank to the bottom – without her.  The temperature of the water was already turning her legs into lead weights.  She kicked hard upwards, but it wasn't enough.  With numb fingers she managed to undo the clasps of her robe and that too disappeared into the inky depths of the lake.

            As she began kicking her way back to the surface, something large and frightening detached from the shadows of the lake.  Just beneath her kicking feet one giant, luminescent eye opened.  Hermione had to fight back the urge to scream.  It was just the giant squid.

            Hands above her head, she touched the cool solidness of the ice just when she thought her lungs would burst from lack of oxygen.  There was only an inch of air space.  Mouth pressed near the frozen roof she could breathe.  Hermione said a silent prayer.  She just might survive the day.

            Miracles do happen.

            Small waves began to slosh through the lake.  A wave washed over her face, and she swallowed water.  She treaded water as gently as she could without sinking back down into the lake.  It was her movements that were making the waves.  She was going to drown herself.

            She stayed very still until the water calmed, then took a deep breathe, hyperventilating to expand the lungs and take in as much air as she could.  She dunked under the water and kicked in the direction where she hoped she'd fallen through.  Her chest was tight, throat aching with the need to breathe.  She surfaced and kissed ice.  There wasn't even an inch of air.  Water splashed into her nose and she coughed, swallowing more water.  She pressed as close to the ceiling as she could, taking small shallow breaths, then under again, kicking, kicking for all she was worth.  If the ice got any thicker before she found a way out, she was going to die.

            _Please, God, please, don't let me die here like this._

            Her chest burned, throat bursting with the need to breathe.  The light was dimming, and she realized it was her eyes that were losing the light.  She was going to pass out and drown.  She pushed for the surface and her hands touched solid ice.  The air was gone.

            She panicked, kicking furiously, fists banging against the ice.  Her side connected with something soft, but solid.  Throat burning she ran her hand across it.  It was the shore.  She'd gone the wrong way.  She didn't have the strength to break through the thick ice and she'd gone the wrong way.  She was going to die.

            Something slimy grazed her leg, but she was losing consciousness fast.  No oxygen was making it to her brain.  Something wrapped around her ankle.  She looked down into yellow glowing saucers. 

            The giant squid.

            It had followed her.  It wanted to help.  She was almost in complete darkness. Her fingers wrapped around the tentacle that held her leg.  Her eyes were shut and a tiny stream of bubbles left her mouth.

            Then her eyes snapped open.  Bright, blinding beams of light burst from them, and amber seeped into white.  Golden-green light filled her.  The tentacle slipped from her leg and the squid disappeared into darkness.  Fire exploded around her.  She felt the hard gold hilt of her sword in her hand as she shot upwards.  Screaming a garbled cry into the water she burst through the ice.

            Hermione took a gasping breath that hurt all the way down.  She heaved herself onto the ice, crawling from the second hole, coughing and relearning how to breathe.

The fire continued to rage across her body.  Warming without burning.  Steam rose off her sprawled body.  She felt the curls brushing her cheek dry and become frizzy.  She was completely dry in less than a minute.  The flames sizzled and died out.  She couldn't waste the life energy given to her.  She got to her feet.

Staring down at her, only inches from her face, were the glittering eyes of a dragon.  A Norwegian Ridgeback to be exact.  A Norwegian Ridgeback named 'Norbert' to be _very_ exact.  And standing beside him was none other than Charlie Weasley.

A/N 2: Watch for a new story coming out by me.  No title yet, but it's going to be a compilation of one-chapter/one-shot Hermione/Harry stories.  I may also be starting one up for one-chapter/one-shot Hermione/ Draco stories.  So keep your eyes open!


	35. Warm Blood, Burning Fire

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Five: Warm Blood, Burning Fire

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13

Pairing: No one in particular in this chapter; D/Hr in the next

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but these tasty s'mores I just made!

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A/N:  Sorry it took so long, but I've been busy and more than a little disheartened by the lack of reviews and the sad content of those I got.  I'm not saying it's all of you, but there are some out there who are complaining about the lack of romance in my story.  I'm sorry you guys feel that way, but I assure there will be definite D/Hr in later chapters.  But not now! There is such a thing as a plot line, and just because you want it now doesn't mean I can just pencil that into said plot.

Also, if you look at my story it's listed first as action/adventure, and second as romance.  I'm sorry if that makes you sad, but there are HUNDREDS probably even THOUSANDS of one-shot D/Hr love stories that you can read.  I mean no offense, but I am writing this story for myself.  If I was so very concerned or interested in pleasing others I would be writing more challenges.

Now, if you have "suggestions" rather than demands, I'd be happy to take them into consideration – such as the one given to me by **Avelynn**** Tame.** (I love your reviews so very much and I love reading them.  Thank you so much for taking the time to write them out for me – I can never wait to read them after every update.  Cookies and Love, Kiss This)

Enjoy the show!

Staring down at her, only inches from her face, were the glittering eyes of a dragon.  A Norwegian Ridgeback to be exact.  A Norwegian Ridgeback named 'Norbert' to be _very_ exact.  And standing beside him was none other than Charlie Weasley.

            Hermione just stared.  She couldn't think of anything else to do.  Charlie must have taken her silence for shock because he let out a loud amused laugh, his cheeks dimpling.

            "Not happy to see me?"

            She wasn't shocked.  She was just tired.  Bursting through two plus feet of ice would do that to you.  His laughing at her wasn't helping either.  "I nearly drowned just now so excuse me for not baking you a bloody cake."  Now she was tired _and_ irritated.

            His laughter died, but he was still smiling – all the way up to his eyes.  She might have thought him cute if she wasn't so _tired_.  His bare hands were moving idly across the scales of Norbert's neck in a soothing manner that to the trained eye proved he was a well experienced dragons expert.  It meant that he had gained Norbert's trust.  The scaled armor-plating of dragons was like any suit of armor – it had cracks.  Weaknesses.  One of the weak spots was the neck and throat all the way up to beneath the jaw.  It was a simple gesture in appearance, but if Hermione ever laid a hand there she wouldn't have it anymore.

            Her eyes moved up to meet Norbert's faceted ones.  He looked almost happy to see her.  So, perhaps not.

            "My mum was right."

            Hermione's eyes moved slowly to look at Charlie.  Her face moved the mere fraction of an inch.  Just because she didn't know what was happening didn't mean she was stupid.  She needed to conserve her energy; even if it was borrowed from the school's pet squid.  Waste not, want not.

            "You're different," he finished.

            "Every day," She replied.

            "Miss Granger!"

            She didn't turn, but waited for Moody to come to her.  Once his weathered face was in her peripheral vision, she expended the energy to smile at him.  He'd have rather died than admit it, but she saw the tension leak away at the simple gesture.

            "Jesus H. Christ, lass!" He said.  "I thought we'd lost you.  Tell me what the hell happened?"

            He didn't phrase it in the most caring of ways, but Hermione could sense his concern.  It cloaked him like an aura.  No color, just a feeling.  It floated an inch above his skin, and she was near enough that the edge of it brushed across her arm.  The faintest of breaths.  She could taste his panic.

            Her eyes widened and, despite her better judgment, she shook her head furiously to knock that feeling away.  As if sensing her fear and distress, Moody's aura folded back in on itself until it was no longer within her sensory range.

            "I do not feel too well," She said quietly, her sarcasm and cynicism falling away.  Underneath it all she was still Hermione Granger.  And Hermione Granger was _never_ disrespectful to her elders.

            Charlie didn't know her well enough; he was still smiling.  Moody frowned but turned and started for Tonks; he'd missed the meaning as well.  Hermione's hand snaked up and touched his arm in a rare gesture of frailty.  Moody's surprise washed over her.  His good eye turned to her while the magical one remained fixed on Norbert.  Apparently he didn't believe in docile dragons.

            Hermione opened her eyes to him, letting him see what she wanted him to see.  Fatigue, confusion, and truth.  For a split-second she let the panic and fear slip into her amber eyes before she swallowed it up.  If Moody had noticed he didn't make any indication of it.  He let out a deep breath, which surprised Hermione, then cleared his throat.

            "How bad is this thing?" His voice was still gravely and hoarse.  Hermione Granger never quit unless something was real bad.

            Hermione's hand dropped to her side and a tiny jolt rushed through her as she pulled away from his aura.  Now that she was no longer in direct contact it made it easier to think.  Some of those thoughts went along the lines of 'what the hell is happening to me', but she didn't voice them.

            She debated over how much to tell of her condition.  Too much and she would appear weak before Moody and that meant weak before the Order; too little and he might not know enough to help her.  She hesitated a moment, then regretfully pushed bravado aside.  She went for the truth.

            "I don't think I can move from this spot," She said evenly.

            Charlie's smile dropped.  She didn't see it, but rather felt it.  Her body was still awkwardly turned towards Moody; torso twisted, head tilted slightly, eyes wide and unguarded.  He stared at her, his scared face a mask of perfect blankness.  Then he turned away and let out a low hiss.

            "You, boy!"

            He was talking to Charlie.

            "Don't just stand there with that stupid look on your face or just your luck a Death Eater will hex it right off.  Go summon the Order from their bloody afternoon tea."

            Charlie nodded and pulled his wand from the back pocket of his jeans.  Moody barked something about 'losing a buttocks' which made Hermione smiled.

            "And do something about that dragon," He growled.

            "Hagrid," Hermione murmured before Charlie could pose the question. 

Hagrid would love to see Norbert again.  He had, after all, raised the Ridgeback from an egg; but some silly law had made doing so quite illegal.  Hermione would have like to have been there when Hagrid was reunited with his 'Norby', but some things were more important at the moment.  She'd find out why Charlie was here later.

Moody turned his attention back to her.  Good.  She liked having attention on her when she felt like she was going to pass out.  Apparently the fire and sword routine had drained her more than she'd thought.  Charlie was walking briskly across the grounds – how he was summoning the Order she had no idea – with Norbert thundering slowly beside him.

"What the blast is going on?" He demanded.  It was a bit too much of an order than Hermione cared for, but she answered anyways.  Maybe it was because she knew she wasn't getting back to the castle under her own power.

"I don't know, sir." She said finally.  "I have only the vaguest idea, and I think it best if I explain to the whole Order."

He was fishing around in his lumpy robe pockets.  She saw a flash of silver as he unbuttoned his coat to reach the inside pockets.  A hip flask.  Moody never left home without it.

"You're eating ain'tcha?" He continued to search his jacket, but his magical eyeball swiveled to look at her.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.  That uses energy.  It was also impolite.  She wanted to say something along the lines of not being anorexic, but that brought her back to the whole rudeness idea.  She settled for, "Yes, sir.", instead.

Just thinking of eating made her flash back to the massive amount of food she'd consumed at lunch.  And sitting on the top was a delicious piece of chocolate cake.  Her mouth nearly salivated at the thought of the food, but her stomach flip-flopped for the same reason.  She still couldn't believe she'd consumed half the Gryffindors' buffet.

There was a crinkling of foil and something solid dropped into her hand.  She looked down.  It was a hunk of chocolate.  Her insides rolled.

"Eat it.  Helps."

Hermione seriously doubted it.  She doubted it would even make it halfway down her throat before she lost it all over the grass.  But she ate it anyways, because that was the polite thing to do.  Amazingly enough, the first bite went down and stayed down.  The energy it took to eat the chocolate was quickly being replaced by a warm, pleasant buzzing in the pit of her stomach.

"We should get up to the castle before the rest of the Phoenix arrives," She murmured.  "I'd rather not have them see me carried into the meeting."

Their eyes met and a mutual feeling of pride was shared.  One tough guy to another.  She couldn't lose face in front of the Order; they barely followed her slight leadership as it was.  He nodded.  He understood.  Hermione took another larger bite of chocolate and willed it down before starting the walk back up to the castle.  It seemed a lot farther away than it had been coming down.

_Just one foot in front of the other..._

            Moody had ended up levitating her into Dumbledore's office, but not before she'd made it nearly to the castle's front doors.  She'd struggled to open the massive oak doors – a feat in itself on a normal day – but collapsed with the effort upon the stone steps.  She'd been settled comfortably in a plush armchair with a fresh block of Honeyduke's chocolate before any of the other members arrived.

            As they filed into Dumbledore's office they gave her curious glances, but didn't say anything more than a few words of greeting.  They must have assumed that she was the reason the emergency meeting had been called.  It was a natural assumption; every time they'd been called since the beginning of the school year had had something to do with her.  Why stop when she was on a roll.

            Hermione smiled to herself and curled up on the chair beneath the warm woolen afghan draped across her waist.  Steam curled up around her chin and she turned her gaze to see Professor McGonagall holding out a cup of tea.  She murmured a quiet thanks and accepted the offered drink.

            She clutched the small cup between both her hands, but did not drink.  The burning heat seeped out through her curved palms and down her wrists melting away just before the bend of her arms.  Staring down into the calm liquid she looked hard upon her own reflection.  No longer smiling her face looked lean and ghostly.

            "Miss Granger?" The soft voice made the statement a question asking for her attention.

            She blinked and shifted her eyes to look up at Professor Lupin.  The angle was rather painful for her eyes and after a moment they began to twitch slightly from the effort of holding them there.  When Lupin saw that she was not going to turn her face towards him, he gathered his shabby robes about him and knelt beside the chair, one hand on the arm to steady him.  Her eyes moved with him.

            "Hello, Professor Lupin," She replied just as softly.  "Did Draco give you my letter?"

            His hand drifted unconsciously over his robe pocket then dropped back to his knee.  Hermione's eyes darted downwards at the movement, and she had no doubt she'd find her letter in that pocket should she choose to look.

            "Yes," He took in a deep breath and something warm brushed her face.  "I read your letter, but I didn't know what to make of it until I talked to a few people."

            She watched his face carefully, but remained silent.  There was more.

            "I've gathered all the information on Hope that the Ministry and Order have compiled over the years," She saw him pull a very thick manila folder from his bag.  It was rubber-banded shut to keep things from falling out.  He handed it to her without waiting for her to ask. 

            "None of it's good."

            Hermione took the file wordlessly.  Almost as if she didn't want to see what was inside, her fingers trailed along the edges, hovered over the rubber band.  Then she pulled the band off with a sharp elastic noise and opened the folder.  She flipped through the papers not bothering to read anything more than a few headings.  She didn't have the time to read through the thick file before the meeting started, and she had a good idea that Lupin would be giving an explanation of most of the folder's contents.

            She stopped on an official looking document.  At the top left corner the emblem of the Ministry was embossed in gold.  Lupin was still kneeling beside her chair, waiting for her to finish browsing through the folder.  She looked between him and the papers.

            "You mentioned you have Ministry information?" There was a questioning lilt to her voice that made the statement into more of a question.

            Lupin's gray-blue eyes widened.  Surprised that she had more interest in where the information was from than that none of it boded well for her current condition, it took him a moment to swallow his shock and answer her question.  She waited patiently, fingers resting lightly on the stacked parchments.

            "Yes," He replied after a moment.  "They had a great deal more to contribute than anything the Order has uncovered so far.  They have, after all, existed since ancient times when Hope first appeared."

            Hermione's hands cupped her tea and raised it to her lips as if she would drink.  She did not.  "There's no way you could have gathered all this information in eight hours, Professor."

            He avoided her eyes, turning instead to look at the file's contents.  The heading of the top-most paper read 'RESTRICTED' in capital letters.  He didn't answer, which was unusual for the mild-mannered lycanthrope.  He was the most polite person Hermione had ever meant.  When you asked a question, he answered it.

            "May I have everyone's attention, please?  Let us call this meeting of the Phoenix to order." Dumbledore's voice carried over the hushed conversation, and Hermione glanced at the elderly man sitting behind his desk.

            She felt Lupin rise and turned her attention back.  The warmth brushed her face again, but she didn't move away from his aura.  When it had happened with Moody she'd been terrified, but now she was more unnerved by the fact that she could taste her Professor's emotions in the back of her throat.  Her mouth had been filled with fear since he'd come to stand beside her.  Whatever he'd found out had made him _very_ afraid.

            The conversation was dying away and she pulled up a blank mask that showed no feeling.  Her quiet voice caught her professor as effectively as if it had been her hand on his sleeve, "I sincerely hope you have done nothing outside the law to give me this information."

            The emptiness she exuded unnerved him, and his aura spiked around her in a defensive motion.  Warm electricity jolted down her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.  She fought the urge to scream.

            "It is not how I acquired this information, but what this information holds that is important, Miss Granger.  You will understand how serious this matter is in a few moments."

            He said this in a whispered voice, as most of the Order's attention had turned to them in the silence of Dumbledore's words.  He pulled away from the grip of her eyes and moved near the center of the room to wait before it was his turn to speak.  Hermione watched him go, the blank look never leaving his face.

            Shit.  He'd stolen the information.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Her fingers tightened convulsively around the teacup.  She'd gotten her law-abiding Professor into doing something _very_ illegal.  She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room and shivered, suddenly cold despite the afghan.  The blank and empty mask of her face frightened her.

            Somebody was talking.  It was Draco.  She hadn't seen him come in.  She blinked her eyes groggily, trying to focus again.  She'd slipped away staring into the mirror.  The faint buzzing of Draco's voice became clearer and she could hear what he was saying.

            "...I didn't read the letter.  I just gave it to Professor Lupin and that's all I know about what's happening.  I'm sure he'll have more to tell you."

            He was a bit blurred in her vision, but Hermione watched him lean back against the wall having said his piece.  Judging by the fact that his face wasn't covered in boils she knew he was telling the truth about not reading the letter.  It had been for Professor Lupin's eyes only.

            She realized that everyone was looking at her, waiting.  She blinked away the glassy look in her eyes.  She put the emptiness back inside them.

            "Miss Granger?"

            "There's more." She said softly. 

Her breathing was getting labored.  She needed more chocolate.  She set down her cup on the side table and had to nearly pry her fingers from it.  There was an intake of breath from those closest to her.  The undersides of her hands were bright pink from clutching the steaming cup.  First degree burns. The chocolate didn't tremble in her hands as she lifted it and took a bite.  Point for her.

"Tell 'em what happened, lass." Moody growled.

She did.

The room was silent.  She couldn't look at her friends.  Her eyes remained fixed on Professor Lupin.  He was looking down at the floor staring at nothing.  Hermione knew he was thinking about what she'd told them, thinking how it fit into his theory of what was wrong with her.

He looked up then, as if sensing her gaze upon him like it was something heavy that could be felt, and her face was still its unwavering blankness.  She didn't want them to see what she felt.  Lupin tried to pull the emotion from his face, but he hadn't been through the horrors she had.  He'd never learned how.  His eyes were still readable; deep and clear and sad.

"Professor Lupin, would you please share what you've found out?" Dumbledore murmured.

"Of course," Lupin murmured.  He stepped into the room a little farther, and made several superfluous gestures trying to compose himself.

Hermione cleared her throat, and she could have sworn the man jumped.  "Professor, please," She whispered into the silence.  "I cannot get out of this chair.  My condition isn't getting any better."

            One of the boys reached for her hand, but she pulled them both into her lap and out of reach.  She wasn't going to be weak.  She didn't need comfort.

            Lupin took a ragged breath, "I suppose I shall just cut to the chase then?"

            Hermione wasn't entirely sure he was expecting an answer, but she answered all the same, "That would be appreciated, thank you."

            "It's...bad news," He told her quietly.  It was as if no one else was in the room.  As if there weren't thirty plus people waiting with bated breath to hear if their one hope for this war was gone.

            "I held no delusions that it would be anything but," She answered, in the same hushed voice.

            He nodded sharply, and Hermione braced herself for the awful truth.  Her blank expression wavered, but she kept it firmly in place.  The only sign of her distress was the fistfuls of blue afghan clutched in her fingers.

            "Whatever line that has kept yours and Hope's consciousnesses separate is disappearing.  That's what your dreams are.  Her _memories_.  Her memories are becoming yours as yours are becoming Hers.  Soon that line will be completely gone and you will become a single entity."

            Hermione swallowed slowly, "Whose consciousness will become dominant?"

            He didn't answer.  That was the second time.  At least she knew why now.  He kept staring at her with those sad, gray eyes.  Pleading, begging her forgiveness.  She couldn't stand it.  She looked away.

            "Professor?"

            Something passed over his eyes, "I do not know..."

            Hermione pressed on, "But you assume Hope?" She made it a question.

            He closed his eyes.  He didn't want to see her face when he said it.  "Yes," he whispered.

            There was a sharp intake of breath from around the room, and Hermione could feel their eyes on her.  Boring into her.  But she wouldn't let them see what she was feeling.  Her amber eyes stared fixatedly on the patches of Professor Lupin's robes, as she willed herself not to cry.

            _I'm note going to cry.  I'm not going to cry.  I'M NOT GOING TO CRY!_

            She forced her lips to part.  They were stuck together from dryness and lack of use.  She licked her lips and struggled to keep her pulse from leaping out of her throat.  Her teeth hurt when she swallowed.  She hadn't realized she'd been clenching them to keep from hyperventilating.

            "Why?" She asked quietly into the silence following her professor's words.  The single word was wispy and her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.  _Damn it_.

            Lupin was looking at her with growing confusion.  She elaborated.

            "Why is this 'line' disappearing?" This time her voice was firm and unwavering.  No emotion but mild curiosity.  Brownie points for her.

            "Hope is dying," He replied.

            "Why?" She asked again. 

It didn't seem the least bit odd that she and Lupin were the only ones talking, but her professor seemed a little more uncomfortable with the Order's silence.  This was unusual.  Her professor never seemed out of sorts in any situation.  She frowned inwardly and the beginnings of panic began to flutter in her stomach.  This _was_ bad...

He took another deep breath, "She is dying because you refused to completely bond with Her; refused to let Her take over your body.  Without the strength that bond brings She cannot focus Her powers and therefore cannot sustain Her own life-force.  It is what has caused you to eat in excessive amounts and feel dizzy and faint.  She is siphoning energy from you."

_This is your fault..._

Hermione's head twitched to the side, Hope's voice ringing in her ears.

"Like a parasite..." She murmured.

"A less complicated analogy, but yes, very much like that.  It's very likely that She was the one upholding the 'line'.  Now, with barely enough energy to keep Herself alive, the separation of your consciousnesses is...fading."

"But what if I can't keep this up?  I could eat all day and She'd still be taking energy faster than I could produce it." As if to illustrate her point dizziness swept through her.  The soft armchair was a steadying weight at her back as she leaned against it and closed her eyes.  The teacup rattled as her fingers brushed it.  She searched blindly for the remaining chocolate, not trusting herself to open her eyes.  If she did, she'd be sick.

"I don't know..." Lupin replied truthfully.

He seemed to be saying a lot of that lately.  Foil crinkled and she took a gratifying bite of sugary chocolate.  That warm tingling buzz filled her stomach and she waited a moment longer before tentatively opening her eyes.  The room spun a bit, but the taste of bile was gone from her mouth.

"What's going to happen to me, Professor?"

"I don't know."

_STOP SAYING THAT!_  Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she willed them away facing the silent room with a cold and empty face.

"Can't she join with Hope _now_?"

"NO!" Hermione shouted, anger replacing her self-pity.  It was the first time she'd raised her voice since the meeting's outset.

Ron had taken a step back.  The freckles on his pale face stood out like ink blots.  He was staring at her with wide eyes.  She unleashed her anger like you'd unleash a rabid dog.  It roared through her and she pushed it out at him like she would push with her hands.  She pushed him away, towards the wall.  He took a shaky step back as if he'd been physically shoved back.  The hairs on his arms were standing on end. 

Even from here, Ron's surprise was so strong that she could taste it, taste his fear. The anger was good – it was her solace and her shield.

There was a low sigh behind her, and she spun her face around to see Professor Lupin take a step closer.  She caught site of her face in the mirror.  The mask had been broken.  Her reflection snarled back at her, ugly and twisted with rage.

"I'm not entirely sure it would do any good, even if it's not too late," Lupin said slowly.  He was cautious of her; she could taste that too.

"But there's still a chance, right?  Why not take it?"

It was Harry who had spoken this time.  Ron couldn't seem to find the words.  Harry wasn't cautious or afraid.  He stared straight at her showing her the concern and worry in his eyes.  He was pleading with her to give in.

Hermione hadn't ever gotten this angry in so long a time.  It had felt good for a few moments, to release her tightly controlled emotions, but she was already beginning to regret how she had treated Ron.  The anger pulled back, and even her skin felt cooler.  The term 'hot with anger' was _very_ real.  She was ashamed of what she had just done.  She swore to apologize to him afterwards.

She took another bite of chocolate, this time for comfort rather than strength.  She was feeling _emotionally_ drained, not physically.

"No," She whispered again.  Her voice back to its soft, low octave, "There's a reason why I didn't join with Hope in the beginning, Harry.  I won't let Her take me now, just because my life is at risk.  It is _my_ body and she **cannot** have it."

He was down at her side so quickly she had to crane her neck backwards at a painful angle to keep from banging heads.  The chocolate dropped from her fingers as he grabbed her hand between two of his own.  He was scanning her face earnestly and she allowed her startlement to seep through the mask.

"Please, Hermione," He pleaded.  His thumb was rubbing patterns across the back of her hand.  She looked up to his eyes and saw, with surprise, that they were filled with tears.  "You're not the only one with something to lose here.  I couldn't bear it if I lost you...not when there's a chance that you could have been saved..."

His voice was so quiet she knew no one else could hear him.  _He sounded so lost_.  It was then that she realized; Harry was the only one who seemed to truly grasp the reality in Professor Lupin's words. 

When Hope's consciousness took over she would, in effect, _die_.

She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry; cry until her face was hot and wet and her eyes were puffy red.  She didn't want to be _here_; not surrounded by people she hardly knew.  She wanted to be with her friends, people who loved her.  _She wanted to cry_.

But Harry was crying enough for the both of them.  She wiped the wet trails from his cheeks with a corner of the afghan; gentle, sure strokes.  It was a motherly gesture, and Harry needed that now.  She brushed the bangs back from his forehead and curled her fingers around his ears to draw him gently closer.  She placed the lightest of kisses atop the scar that etched his forehead and spoke with her lips against his cool skin.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered and she felt him shudder in despair beneath her touch.  Tears pricked her eyes again, knowing that she was hurting him,  "I _cannot_."

She pulled back and turned her body to shield him from most of the room so that he could pull himself together.  Closed fists pressed into his eyes and cheeks as he forced the tears out.  He cleared his throat and Hermione settled back into the chair.

"Worry does not empty tomorrow of sorrow.  It empties today of strength," she said, loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear, but her gaze was on Harry.  He would not meet her eyes as he stood and moved to stand beside Ron. "Do not be worried for me."

"I'm not dead yet," She added, a little less poetically.

This made Lupin smile.  "No, of course not," he said.

Hermione nibbled on her chocolate and returned the smile.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

She thought about it for a moment, then swallowed and nodded.  She pushed the afghan off her lap and uncurled her legs.  They tingled a bit from nearly falling asleep, but they held her weight as she swung them off the chair and stood.

"Come and stand beside me," he instructed and she did, fidgeting slightly, but grateful that she was standing at all.

The old Hermione Granger surfaced as he began to pour a circle around her.  She watched with undisguised curiosity as the unnaturally white sand fell upon the polished wood.  Lupin caught her intense scrutiny of his movements and smiled wider.

"White sand for divination and meditation as well as truth," he explained.  He left a small piece of the circle unconnected then began setting down four dark blue candles at each of the cardinal points: North, South, East, West. "Blue for prophecy, and orange for energy, seeing as how you are somewhat lacking," he finished, setting a small vibrant orange candle on either side of each blue one.

Hermione swallowed all this knowledge with interest, but her curiosity was still piqued.  "Professor, why do you require ritual magic?  Such things have long since become obsolete – we no longer need rituals to perform spells, just a wand and the correct phrase."

"You are correct as always, Miss Granger." Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink.

 "However, we are dealing with ancient powers, and while this," he waved his arm behind him to encompass the elaborate circle, "may all turn out to be overly dramatic in the end, I'd rather be safe than sorry, wouldn't you?"

His gray eyes locked with hers, and she couldn't find the words to reply.  She simply nodded. 

He stepped back into the circle with a large amethyst in his hands.  Dropping a pinch of salt across the open circle he closed it.  Power exploded upwards and outwards over her.  Hermione threw her hands up in defense and white-gold light engulfed her as her aura spiked.

"It's alright, Miss Granger." Lupin's voice seemed far away. "Nothing within this circle will harm you.  You may call back your energy."

Slowly, tentatively she lowered her arms and blinked rapidly against the harsh light of the shimmering dome that engulfed them.  The glow around her body dulled and sank back into her skin.

"What is wrong?" Lupin asked curiously, looking over his shoulder to see what she was staring at.

With one hand still shielding her eyes, her nose scrunched upwards in discomfort, "Can you turn down the light show?  It's hurting my eyes." She growled irritably.

Lupin was looking at her with a mix of confusion and interest.  He reached out beside him and placed his palm upon the wall of energy.  It bowed slightly like rubber under strain and the light around his hand intensified.  Hermione cursed and twisted away from the brightness.

"Ok," She muttered when the throbbing pain behind her eyes receded, "So I'm taking it that you don't see the circle?"

"No, I cannot," He answered with something akin to awe in his voice.  "Feel it? Yes, surely.  But, no, I see nothing."

"Can you do something about it?"

"No...but perhaps you could.  You're energy appears to have greatly increased within the circle."

Hermione nodded, but when she realized he probably couldn't see the gesture with her arms up shielding her face she said: "I'll try."

She concentrated on the light dancing just past her closed eyelids and imagined the light fading and dying away to a faint shimmering sparkle.  Every time the light grew brighter in her mind she made it sink away again.  She _willed_ it to fade.  She waved her hand in front of her face and opened her eyes.  The light was gone.

"Better?" Lupin voiced.

Hermione nodded and turned back to face him.  He was holding up the large amethyst and gesturing her closer.  She took two steps up to him and stopped.

"Tell me what we're about to do," She said quietly.

Lupin nodded, "I want you to actually try and access Hope's memories.  I need to know how far gone the line is.  Afterwards, we'll try and reconstruct it with _you_ being its maintainer."

"But Professor, I'm in the same situation as Hope; I can barely get enough energy for myself much less enough to hold off Hope's consciousness."

He sighed, and Hermione saw for the first time all the years settle into his face.  He looked _tired_.  "I know..." He said softly, "But it's the only plan we've got."

Hermione was silent.

"The amethyst will be your focus," he explained. "It corresponds with psychic powers and protection – it's the best stone for what we're trying to accomplish."

"So it will help me focus my mind, but at the same time protect from anything dangerous that might happen?" She repeated.

"In theory."

That didn't make her feel any better.  She followed her professor's instructions and searched for the silvery unicorn hair trapped within it.  She looked deeper and deeper, forcing her eyes to see the thin hair that should have been impossible to see with the human eye.  She wasn't sure if she found it or not before she felt herself slipping away.

            She was swimming in black water, strong smooth strokes.  The moon hung huge and shining, making a silver pathway on the lake.  There was an emerald fringe of trees.  The white skirt of her chiton twisted about her legs as she swam.  She was almost to shore, but hands were pushing her back.  They grabbed great fistfuls of her dark brown hair and shoved her back into the water.

            The water was so warm, warm as blood.  In that moment she knew why the waters were black.  It was blood.  She was swimming a lake of fresh, warm blood.

            Hermione screamed.  She was on her knees.  Fingernails clawed her arms and she realized dimly they were her own.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  She didn't want to see, didn't want to see the blood.  She could feel it dripping down her hand, thick and warm.  Someone was calling her name, but if she opened her eyes then the blood would be real.  Hands touched her and she shrieked, throwing them off.  The men from the lake leered at her from inside her mind.

            A woman's voice shouted at her in French.  She didn't answer.  It was hard to just think at all.  A thick fog had settled in her thoughts and she could not shake it.  She forced her eyes open and found that the fog was real.

            Thick, black smoke surrounded her in great billowing clouds.  She stared resignedly at the smoke as if she had known it would be there when she opened her eyes.  The temperature was rising and beneath the dirty white, cotton shift her skin began to sweat.

            She coughed as quietly as she could manage, trying to lift her hands to muffle it, but her hands were tied behind her.  She'd forgotten.  Smoke was filling her lungs and she coughed lightly again, not allowing the villagers gathered around her to see her discomfort.  Her eyes were burning from the heat and she closed them again.

            **_I'm sorry it had to end this way, Joan..._**

            _What good is a martyr if they are still alive, no?_

_            **Thank you.**_

_            No.  Thank you for restoring hope to my people._

_            **May your soul find peace in the afterlife, Ma Cherie...**_****

Then the voice was gone and she was left alone, staring down at her feet where the shorn blonde locks of her hair lay strewn about the wooden stand.  She closed her eyes tightly as the flames leapt higher around her, and though she had sworn she wouldn't she couldn't bite back the scream as her body burned.

            Hermione shrieked again, high and feral.  She couldn't stop.  She gulped in short ragged breaths just to keep screaming.  Her hands twisted themselves in her curls and pulled at them, unable to believe that they were still there.  Tears flooded down her cheeks.  She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched down amid great sobbing screams.

            The blood on her hands was hot; too hot.  It burned her skin and pain flooded through her, but she was already screaming.  More hands reached for her, but she flung her arm out to stop them.  She didn't want to touch those hands, so she fell back onto the floor kicking out at her attackers.

            "NO!" She shrieked, cutting off her terrified screams, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

            Her eyes were refusing to focus; they kept darting around the room, landing on unfamiliar faces.  A hand grabbed her shoulder and she screamed.  An ear-piecing, lung bursting shriek of pain...and terror.

            "DON'T TOUCH ME! STAY AWAY!"

            The smell of smoke filled her nostrils and the warmth of blood pooled about her waist.  She wrenched herself free of the hand with a continuing scream and scrambled away, only to fall and retch upon the floor.  When the dry heaving ended, she curled herself into a ball and wept.

            "Hermione, please, tell me what you saw.  Let me help you!"

            "Blood and fire and pain," She whimpered, clutching her knees tighter to her chest.  She mumbled as she rocked back and forth across the floor, "_Warm_ blood..._burning_ fire..."

            She could feel him standing over her and fear made something in her stomach clench.  Her darting eyes caught his face, but it was not the face of her professor.  It was the man from the lake, rising dark and bloody from her memory.  He smiled at her and she screamed again.

            She threw up an arm as if to ward off a blow and frantically crab walked backwards, slipping and falling again and again in her haste to escape.

"Hermione, NO!"

The circle's light exploded outwards in a blinding explosion of sparkling energy.  Shouts of surprise and pain rose from around the room as the supernova of light spread outwards. 

Hermione couldn't lift her head from floorboards.  There was no longer a single scrap of energy left in her body.  She could feel the strength of her lungs fading, shuddering to stop.  She could feel the veins in her body cease their pulsing as the beating of her heart slowly died away.  She listened as each thump was followed by a longer and longer silence, her amber eyes sending bright headlights of light into the fading room...

...and she waited for death.


	36. Death Becomes You

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Six: Death Becomes You

Author: KissThis

* * *

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Draco x Hermione ack-she-own.

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

* * *

Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers. Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's been ages, but I've been working out in the cornfields for the past couple of weeks from 6 AM – 5 PM and it really tired me out. Hopefully, I'll be posting more often until school gets into full swing again.

* * *

Hermione couldn't lift her head from floorboards. There was no longer a single scrap of energy left in her body. She could feel the strength of her lungs fading, shuddering to stop. She could feel the veins in her body cease their pulsing as the beating of her heart slowly died away. She listened as each thump was followed by a longer and longer silence, her amber eyes sending bright headlights of light into the fading room...

...and she waited for death.

* * *

Hermione woke up screaming. She screamed and she screamed 'til her throat ached and her eyes watered and her head pounded with pain. Her heart was thumping so wildly beneath her breast she thought at any moment it would break free from her chest and tumble onto her golden sheets in a bloody mess. It was the sound that finally calmed her; the beating of her heart.

She was alive.

It had all been just a dream.

No, a nightmare. It had most definitely been a nightmare.

A nightmare she remembered with vivid clarity.

She could feel herself drowning, sinking into the murky depths to die. Nothing but dark waters caressing her skin and the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. The water filled her nostrils and slipped into her mouth, trickling down her throat and filling her lungs. Surrounded inside and out by icy waters, her skin seemed to melt away leaving her as nothing more than a weak consciousness within a sea of serenity. Calm and peaceful she let herself slip away.

...let herself die.

Her heart was slowing down, the beats sounded slower and slower like a record player that was winding down. Ice filled her body as she felt the blood still in her veins. One ragged breath after another, she fought before giving in to the inevitable. Her unblinking eyes fixed on nothing at all as white bled across her vision. The floor beneath her head was nearly non-existent as she floated away on a wave of numb resignation.

...floated away from life.

Hermione's eyes clamped shut and she squeeze her fists so tightly her fingernails sliced into the smooth skin of her palms. Frightened tears slipped down her cheeks, and silently she cried.

She cried for herself.

She cried for Hope.

She cried for _the world_.

She cried...for the first time truly realizing just how bad things were. Maybe Seamus had been right; how could there be any hope left? The world was crumbling, the planet dying. She could taste death on the back of her tongue, and she found reason after reason to let the tears keep falling.

Despairing and in pain she pulled her knees to her chest and bathed herself in bitter tears.

"Such a pretty one. Why does it cry?"

Hermione lifted her head from her arms and turned a sorrow-stricken face to the young girl sitting on her bed. Long blonde hair and bright, pupilless golden eyes.

"Hope." She croaked, her throat raw from screaming.

The tiny girl beamed. "I like the way you say my name. Hope," she tried to mimic Hermione's raspy voice and ended up sounded like a sort of bullfrog. She tried several more times, each sounding sillier than the last. Hermione stared at her through red-rimmed eyes as if she'd gone mad.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Come to send me more nightmares?" as she said the last, her arms tightened convulsively around her knees.

The little Hope shook her head, blonde hair fanning around her cherubic face.

"What then?"

"I'm here to help you, pretty girl." Hope smiled, sounding so sincere.

Hermione's thin thread of iron resolve snapped and she pitched forward into the tiny girl's lap, finally allowing great racking sobs to shake her body. She grabbed great fistfuls of golden silk and buried her wet face in Hope's rough tunic. Small hands patted her head in a child's form of comfort, chubby fingers sticking in her tangled hair.

"It hurts…s-so much," Hermione choked.

"I know that," she said simply. "That's why I'm here – to make everything better."

"How?" Hermione asked. "How can you make this pain go away?"

It seemed impossible. This pain seemed as if it would last an eternity. Never-ending it would continue on and on and until she was nothing but the pain itself. It felt as if it would tear her apart.

"Let me hug you."

Hermione lifted her face from Hope's lap, the tears making locks of hair stick to her cheeks. "W-What?"

"You'll feel better," she insisted. "I promsise!"

The smile the small girl gave her only made her feel empty inside. "I don't want to die," Hermione whispered. She didn't know what had made her say it.

"I won't let you," she told her proudly, jabbing a grubby thumb at her own chest. "I'm going to help you lots and lots. It won't even hurt!"

Hermione wanted to give in, wanted the pain to go away. It was so simple – all she had to do was allow Hope to comfort her and everything would be alright. She _wanted_ to be comforted. She _wanted_ everything to be alright. Yet still she doubted. "But my body..." her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I won't let anything happen to _you_, silly," Hope spread her hands wide, inviting Hermione into her arms. "Just let me hug you."

_"Just give me your hand, Granger."_

_Silent music began to play..._

_The candles' flames sizzled and went out..._

_And bodies close together...they danced..._

Hermione cried out and fell against her. She clutched to the back of Hope's tunic and pressed her face against her shoulder. Hope's arms closed around her, and Hermione's face contorted into the cloth as she braced herself for pain. But none came.

She pulled back enough so that she could look up at the child that held her. A ghostly face smiled down at her with dimpling cheeks. She could see straight through her, yet the spectral arms that held her felt as real as any human's. They were _warm_.

"Hope," she whispered. "Hope, what's happening?"

Hope giggled and it was near empty sounding, echoing. "I'm just going away for a bit, but don't worry. I'll be back when you need me, silly girl."

Hermione gasped as Hope's arms slid through her back and the tiny child pulled herself inside of her. Like a bucket of icy water had been dumped over her, great chills spread throughout her body in waves. Her eyelids fluttered and as her support disappeared she fell face forward onto her bed.

* * *

"Hermione?" Draco knocked loudly on her door. "Hermione, are you in there?"

There was no sound of movement from the other side of the door, and he frowned at it, annoyed. He knocked on it again, and this time it was more of a banging than anything else. "Come on, Hermione. You've slept the day away, but since you're the one who called this prefect meeting you can't sleep through it."

Just as he was about to knock again the door swung open. Hermione beamed brightly up at him. "Hello, Draco. Sorry to keep you waiting."

* * *

Hermione scooped a handful of red-tinted bubbles in her hands and blew them off into the air. Padme was going on and on about something or other relating to the Halloween Ball, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. Hermione glanced over at Hannah, who was submersed in pink, triangle-shaped bubbles up to her nose, and Draco, floating on his back down in the deeper half of the pool.

"I think that's enough for tonight," she spoke up, cutting Padme off in the middle of a story about a hamster and some peanut butter. How it had _any_ relevance to the ball they were attempting to plan, Hermione didn't want to know. She smiled at the Ravenclaw as way of apology and fidgeted with the strap of her swimsuit.

"It's getting late and I want to get to bed," she said, emphasizing her statement with a long yawn. The two girls nodded their assent and clambered out of the pool

"Bed?" Draco started wading towards her. "You've been asleep all afternoon. Your little Gryffindor pals were worried when you didn't show up for dinner. Thought Moaning Myrtle had drowned you in the loo or something."

Hermione chuckled, "But you knew better. Didn't you?"

He gave a cheeky grin. "Oh, yes. I knew you were still on your lazy arse, snoozing away."

"MALFOY!" She exclaimed giving him a hearty splashing. He responded in turn by jumping her and pushing her head beneath the water. She surfaced sputtering.

"Oh boy are you in for it now," she threatened, brandishing a handful of bubbles like a weapon.

Draco sneered. "I'm shaking in my swim trunks," he said sarcastically.

Hermione leapt on his back then and tried to return the favor by dunking him, but he was taller than her and he just stood in the shallows as she tried, rather ridiculously, to shove him under. Finally, she settled for shoveling a bunch of soapy bubbles up into his face as she jumped off. He had to go under to wash them off and when he wiped the water from his eyes, Hermione had just reached the opposite side of the pool.

He kicked off the tiled bottom and swam towards her, hidden beneath the bubbles. She let out a rather undignified shriek as he grabbed her round the ankle and yanked her under the water. She grabbed fistfuls of his swim trunks, and ended up pulling him farther under as she scrambled upwards.

Hermione was laughing hysterically when Draco resurfaced pushing the sopping golden bangs from his eyes. She hiccupped loudly and helped him shove back his hair. He looked so ridiculous she had to laugh.

"You seem different."

Hermione smiled at him, and cocked her head to the side curiously. "How so?"

"Just different," he said offhand. Trying to withhold a smirk, he started making his way back to the shallows.

"Oh, no you don't!" She swam after him, eventually wading as her feet found the sloping floor. "How am I different?"

Draco waited until she caught up then shrugged, "You've gone through a lot of shit lately," he looked terribly uncomfortable as he spoke. "And a small part of that's been from me..."

Hermione bit her lip as he went on, rather hurriedly. "I'm just saying this because you look so..." he struggled to find the word.

"Different?" She suggested.

"Peaceful," He replied. "I was going to say 'peaceful'."

Hermione made an 'oh' face, then smiled. "You're right. I've finally found peace," She ended in a whisper.

Draco stared at her in shock. How? How could she have found peace? It seemed nearly impossible – murder, possession, and threat of death weren't easy things to just "get over". He wondered why this had happened now...and what price she'd had to pay for this supposed peace.

"How?"

She took a step closer. "Does it matter?" They were almost touching. "I'm here with you now, and I don't know how much time—"

"Hermione, what the bloody hell is happening!"

She placed a finger on his lips and hushed him softly. Her face was so serene and beautiful. Wet curls clung to her forehead and cheeks and dragged their tips in the bubbly water. Her face was slightly pink from the hot bath, but not even that distracted from the utter tranquility radiating off of her in waves. Breathtaking, to say the least, Draco wasn't sure if he'd have been able to speak whether or not she had silenced him.

She smiled and moved her hand to cup his cheek, "I know I haven't been the best friend at times—"

"Who said we were friends?" Draco choked out. He seemed to be unable to take in air.

Hermione smiled wider, her cheeks dimpling at his jest. "But everything seems so much clearer now, and I hope you'll forgive me for being completely daft." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"You've never in your life been so stupid, Granger."

His lips brushed hers and their soap-slicked bodies pressed against one another. Hands tangled in soaking blonde hair, Hermione pressed his face closer to hers and as their lips locked her tongue darted out to taste him. Draco's hands were on her face, pulling her against him. He wanted to devour her; starting with her lips and ending with her toes.

He'd never forgotten how good she'd tasted.

"Draco..." He hadn't realized she'd pulled away. The crushing pressure of her lips on his was still there but only a faint ghost of the real feeling. She pressed her wet forehead against his and droplets of water rolled down her curls and dripped onto his nose. The short, quick breaths she took fluttered across his damp face. The cool sensation made him shiver.

"Gods," she cursed breathlessly. "I wish we had more time." She shed no tears, but her amber eyes were dull and sad.

"We've got all the time in the world," Draco insisted, wrapping his arms around her. He didn't want to let her go, and it was an odd sensation, but not one that he was about to ignore. "Blimey, Hermione, you're acting as if I'm going to bloody disappear."

She kissed him again, and he knew it was to avoid conversation, but that didn't really rank high on his list of things to think about at that moment. Actually, he wasn't really able to think of anything at all. Who knew that plain-jane Granger could snog like succubus?

"Promise me," she murmured against his lips. Draco frowned. She was starting to worry him – every tiny change was being pieced together in his mind creating a final image that was both disturbing and confusing.

"Promise, whatever happens...don't lose hope," She saw the confusion in his eyes. "Please?"

"Alright..."

Her peaceful face was marred slightly by the forced smile, but she twined her fingers in his and pulled him along behind her as she got out of the bath. Draco's brow was furrowed as he climbed the steps out and as they dried off and headed back to the prefect dorms one thing stood out in his mind:

Things were happening _far_ too fast.

* * *

They were both sitting in the common room, reading, when it happened. The lights flickered and went out, plunging the large room into darkness. There was a loud **thump!** Draco had dropped his book. Hermione hushed him and he stopped moving. He barely even breathed. The only sound was from Hermione's muggle stereo.

"It's happening," she whispered into the near-silence.

The lights flickered on and then off again several times before they stayed on. Hermione sat patiently still, and just as Draco was about to break the silence the announcement came.

"_Attention everyone!"_

Draco glanced at Hermione, but her gaze was on the flames, completely unfazed.

"_Voldemort's forces have entered the castle. Please, stay calm, and return to your dormitories immediately!"_

Screams rose from the hallway as the students began to panic. The thundering of racing footsteps as they ran all out for the relative safety of their dorms was rising to an unimaginable roar. And still Hermione did not stir.

"You knew this was coming..." he whispered to himself.

"Yes," she said evenly.

"How?"

Hermione sighed, "Voldemort felt my power spike and now he's afraid of what it may mean for the coming war."

"You don't truly think he's sent someone here to kill you? This is _Hogwarts_."

She shrugged, "Joining with Hope is a threat he never wanted to face."

Draco gaped. When someone had suggested that she join with the deity that was possessing her, Hermione had _freaked out_. And now she was talking about it as if she was relating what breakfast cereal she'd picked that morning. _She was talking as if she'd already done it._

"You joined?"

Hermione nodded. Turning slightly to face him, she propped her elbow on her knee and laid her chin in her palm. "She gave me peace," she said softly.

"_No_..." He gasped. Something inside him snapped. As he'd feared, the price of her release had been too high. He'd never been so sorry about being right before.

"She's gone, Draco. The screaming voices of the people I've killed are gone, the nightmares are gone; she's gone. It's all gone. _Everything_."

She smiled and stood up, "I see now with eyes unclouded."

"Where are you going?" He shouted, angry and confused. He jumped up and grabbed her arm as she started for the portrait door. "Dumbledore told us to go to our dormitories. Since we're already here, we...stay..._put_."

"I'm a prefect," she said calmly. "I need to make sure everyone is safe. Half those students can't even defend themselves."

Pulling herself free she flung open the portrait and stepped out quietly into the hallway. Draco had no choice but to follow. He hurried out of the common room, but made sure to stay well in the shadows in case any of the Death Eaters had made it this far into the castle. He hoped Hermione had been smart enough to do so as well, but when he looked down the hallway he did not see her.

The wind was suddenly knocked out of him as something large and solid collided with him and sent him crashing down onto the floor. His head smacked the unyielding stones with a sick **crack** and his vision swam with lights. Tasting bile in the back of his throat he screamed at himself not to give into the darkness.

The body that held him pinned to the floor was knocked backwards and he sucked in air, still unable to lift his head without almost passing out. There were sounds of a scuffle and two sets of feet moved back and forth across his vision. One was Hermione's bare feet, toes painted bubble-gum pink. The other wore dark shoes covered by dark pants.

The sound of metal on metal echoed through the cobblestones and made his head rattle. A battle was going on; he **had** to get up. Closing his eyes to keep his dizziness at a minimum, he shifted completely onto his stomach and drew himself into a kneeling position. Too fast. He lurched forward and collapsed against the wall, choking back the vomit rising in his throat.

There was a loud **bang**.

Hands still shaking from the shock of the blow, he pulled his wand from the waistband of his pajama bottoms and forced out the incantation for a minor healing charm. Instantly, his headache died, the dizziness disappeared, and his stomach quieted. Using the wall for support he shoved off the floor, got to his feet, and opened his eyes.

Hermione was a few feet away from him, squaring off with her attacker.

The man was most definitely a muggle. Dressed all in black, the only color on his person was the steel sword in his hand. It was also the only remaining weapon he had. A small knife was tangled in the shredded canvas of portrait, and a metallic, l-shaped device lay behind Hermione, one end giving off a faint wisp of smoke.

Hermione looked as she had sitting on the couch, reading _Hogwarts: A History_ for the thousandth time. Her hair, now dry from the bath, was left hanging loose around her shoulders obscuring the straps of her white, cotton nightgown. Her focused amber eyes were framed by a serene face. She didn't look any different at all.

But her giant sword was in her hand and it was crackling with golden energy She didn't need a fancy transformation with wings and glowing eyes to show her true power; she _was_ the power.

The man charged and Hermione met his down slice with her own blade. Without even bracing herself or adjusting her one-handed hold on her sword she shoved him back. To his credit, the unknown assassin kept a grip on his weapon as his back collided with the stone wall. Pushing away as Hermione lifted her sword the two began to circle one another.

Draco could barely follow their movements as blade met blade in a vicious onslaught again and again without relenting. Sparks exploded outwards as they attacked and parried, illuminating empty faces leading each other in the killing dance.

The man feinted to the left and as Hermione shifted her stance to block the attack she thought was coming he sliced his sword out to her right. Pivoting instantly, she dodged backwards leaving the tip of the blade to cut the air right across her stomach. As he was still completing his swing she spun around and brought the sword in a downward arc at his head. Lady Luck must have taken pity on him for the momentum of his earlier attack made him stagger and he stumbled just to the side of an attack that would have completely bisected him.

Draco watched as Hermione gave a violent kick to the man's stomach and was rewarded with a sharp crack across her jaw with his fist. They crossed swords again and shoved each other away. Running at her exposed back, the man raised his sword to strike, but it was met by Hermione's as she held her sword over her shoulder to protect herself. She spun around and the scraping of their blades produced another shower of sparks.

Now Hermione was on the attack and a quick combination of attacks forced the assassin on the defensive. Unable to get a hit in edgewise, it was all he could do to counter her strikes and lose as little ground as possible. The minute Hermione's attitude changed Draco knew the fight was coming to an end, for which he was thankful. Not only did he _not_ enjoy seeing Hermione fighting for her life, but the small healing charm he'd cast was wearing off. There was a spot above Hermione's left ear that just wouldn't go away no matter how hard he rubbed his eyes, and his headache was creeping back. He probably had a concussion.

There was a great shout of pain and Draco's eyes shot up to see the assassin's face a bloody mess. Hermione had smashed the pommel of her sword into the bridge of his nose. His free hand had gone reflexively to cover his injured face and Hermione buried her fist in his sternum. Something cracked and Draco's eyes widened in surprise. The man was bent over gasping desperately for air as the hilt of her sword collided with his mouth. Draco thought he saw a tooth fall out, but there was so much blood he couldn't be sure.

Simultaneously, Hermione swept the man's legs out from under him and slammed the sword's pommel between his shoulder blades. He collapsed to the ground in a quivering heap. Somehow, through all the injury she'd inflicted, Hermione had miraculously managed to keep any blood from making it on her person, and now she stepped daintily around the pooling blood, her bare feet smacking on the stone.

The man was struggling to his knees. Not a single emotion crossed Hermione's face as she raised her sword above her head, point down. She'd retreated into her mind where there was nothing but white fog and the noise of static. There was no remorse as she buried her sword in his back just as he thrust upwards.

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione gasped.

Her eyes went wide in disbelief and her mouth opened in silent protest. She stumbled backwards wrenching her sword from the man's back. Very slowly, her head lowered and she stared down with a sickened face. Blood spilled over the smooth metal and dulled the smooth steel hilt of the sword. Her own sword fell from her numb grasp and clattered to the stone floor. She watched in gross fascination as the thick crimson liquid bled through the thin material of her dress. In the back of her mind she wondered how any person could have so much blood. It seemed impossible that it could continue to pour from her as if it would never stop. She watched how it trickled down the sword's handle and hung their in beaded droplets until gravity pulled it down into an already large puddle pooled around her bare feet.

Dizziness overtook her. Maybe she didn't have quite as much blood as she thought. Her hands lowered and she tentatively pressed her palms to the space above the sword, where it was embedded in her torso. Pain, unlike that she'd ever felt before raced through her and she instantly flung her hands away. It was like touching a hot stove. The pain dulled and then disappeared as the dizzying euphoria of staring at her own blood took over. Sticky crimson coated her small hands, making them burn with flaming warmth. The indescribably sensation of her life's energy bathing her hands made her dizzy and sick with realization. Realization that, even as the blood cooled on her skin, her body too was filling with the cold air of death.

The assassin smiled a satisfied smile as the blood ran between the gaps in his teeth. He knew that he was dying, but not even that stopped the swell of pride that showed in his face. He had done what was asked of him and had defied fate in the name of his glorious master.

"She is dead..." He wheezed. Staring up at Draco in defiance, he coughed, spraying blood across the floor. And with his last breath he called out to his lord – the man turned god – trusting that his master would deliver him. "Long...live...V-Voldemort."

He was dead.

Draco's wand felt suddenly heavy in his hand and everything seemed to slow as he turned to face Hermione. Even his voice seemed faint and sluggish as he screamed in pain.

"NOOOOOO!"

A distant part of Hermione's mind was screaming out as well, but no one would ever hear it. Her mind was arguing desperately that this couldn't be happening; she wasn't supposed to die like this. This wasn't her Fate – this wasn't _fair_. But all the pain...all the unfairness...all _thought_ melted away until all that was left...was the ache in her heart.

Her hands found their way to the handle of the sword. Of their own accord they ripped the weapon from her torso, but she was numb to the pain. As it slid easily from her cooling body like it would its own sheath it made a sickening sound separating from her flesh. But still the pain did not reach her. When the blade was finally free from the case of her body she dropped it upon her own, earlier discarded sword and fell numbly to her knees. The throbbing warmth of her own blood in which she kneeled soon outbalanced the cold feeling of the chilled stone. Blood-red crimson stained the hem of her dress where it dragged against the ground and the blood coated her legs in its sticky heat.

She raised her head with care and looked up at Draco. He was rooted to the spot.

The ache in Hermione's heart became stronger. Oh, how handsome he looked; he was always _so_ handsome. If only there had been more time...

She collapsed to the floor.

He was suddenly back in control of his body and he ran to her. The few feet it took to reach her seemed an eternity and when he pulled her into his arms he feared it might have been too late. But she turned her head slowly and looked up at him. Her eyes flickered slightly, but he forced himself not to look away. They stopped and they were Hermione's very human eyes gazing back up at him.

"Oh, Hermione..." he choked.

Blood.

There was blood...all over the floor. It ran along the cool stone, staining everything it touched.

Blood.

She was covered in it.

"Draco..." She whispered.

He ran his hands absently through her chestnut hair – in an attempt to sooth her – and tried not to move her too much. She seemed so tiny in that moment. So frail, so petite, and covered in so much blood that he couldn't help the tears falling from his eyes. The sound of his own heart wrenching sobs was nearly too much for him to bare, and he clenched his jaw as he looked away from her prone body.

_**Baduum...Baduum...Baduum...**_

Hermione pressed a hand to her aching chest as if such a simple thing could ease the pain in her heart. Her mind was starting to slip away and she could feel her body shutting down. She'd died so many times in her dreams, but this time...this time it was _real_. She almost couldn't believe it. Tears pricked at her eyes.

_Harry._

_Ron._

She'd never get to tell them goodbye. Never get to tell them how much they meant to her. She sobbed. The tears that she had been holding back now rolled unhindered down her cheeks, but she could not feel them. She couldn't feel anything – no the tears, not the pain, nor the arms around her.

_Ginny._

_Postvorta._

_Dumbledore._

_McGonagall._

_Snape._

Their faces were all blurring together.

_Fleur._

_Viktor._

_Remus._

_Sirius._

_Moody._

_Tonks._

_All the people that believed in her._

Hermione cried not for herself, but for the world. Everyone she was going to let die.

She had failed...

The final battle would come and Voldemort would slaughter them all. Knowing that your death would bring about the massacre of man wasn't was other people thought about when they died. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, lovers, friends...that's what ordinary people thought about in their last moments on earth. No one had _**any** idea_ how it felt.

She felt as if she were already dead.

_Draco._

"Draco..." she breathed.

Draco turned to her. Back in the common room the stereo clicked faintly and changed songs. The haunting melody carried out through the open portrait and echoed dimly through the empty hallway.

"Draco, I'm so sorry...I guess I wasn't fast enough..."

"Ssh," he whispered, brushing a stray curl from her face. "Just hold on. Someone must have heard. Someone's coming, Hermione – _Just hold on._"

"I've failed..."

"No! You haven't failed – you're still alive.

She smiled then and the light in her eyes seemed to dim, "I'm not afraid."

"Hermione! No!" He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from where it clutched her chest. A glistening red handprint stained the white cloth over her heart. She went on, speaking quickly as if there was so much for her to say and so little time in which she had to do it.

"Oh, Draco...you never listen to what you don't want to hear..." she whispered and a faint smile played on her lips. Only Hermione could be near-death and still smile. "Please...let me finish. I don't be here much longer and there's so much I need to tell you. Tell everyone I'm sorry...I couldn't find my power in time."

More tears fell down her cheeks and her lips trembled. "Tell Severus it wasn't his fault...I just wasn't ready." She coughed and blood trickled down her cheek, "And tell...tell Harry and Ron goodbye..."

She sobbed now, unable to bare the thought of leaving her best friends behind. Heart-wrenching tears poured down her face. Draco brushed away the crystalline paths her tears made but she reached up to stop him. The blood coating it made her hand slide slickly across his as she pulled it away.

"I'm sorry for all the dramatics..." she whispered throatily, "People die everyday – there's no need for tears."

Draco wanted to tell her it was all right to cry. That it was all right to feel pain. But he couldn't bring himself to admit that she was dying. He refused to believe that such an impossibility was true. "Everyone cries when they're hurt, Hermione. But just wait, Madame Pomfrey will fix you up."

Hermione reached up and silenced him with a finger upon his lips. After a moment she let that finger fall away leaving a bold crimson line down his chin. He opened his mouth to speak but the taste of her blood consumed him. It tasted like iron. It was so strong that only the few drops that spilled over his lips filled his mouth with its metallic tang.

"Draco, no matter what I've said...I love you." She coughed again and another trail of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.

There was so much blood.

_Everywhere._

"I love you too, Hermione."

"It's ironic," she breathed. "That it would take a mortal wound to finally make me admit it. But it's true."

Her face was ashen white and her lips were pale as she spoke. "You once told me that when you went into battle...that you'd be thinking of me." Her eyes flashed weakly. "I wanted you to know..._I'm thinking of you now_..."

Draco bent over her and cried. His tears rolled off his cheeks and splattered on Hermione's face. They mixed with her blood and bred pink trails down her face. The salty paths dipped over her lips and it was almost like she could taste his shower.

Her vision blurred and it wasn't from tears. She felt the numbness passing through her body and knew that her final moments on earth were now. "I-It's time for me to go..."

Her body shuddered and she coughed up a mouthful of blood. It ran down her chin and neck and onto Draco's arm.

"Hermione, NO! Fight it! You have to hold on!" He shook her slightly and her head lolled around limply over his arm. "Merlin! Please save her!"

Hermione's hand trembled as she lifted it up to caress his face. She couldn't see things clearly, but his shining blue-gray eyes were distance though the fog. Her half-dried bloody smeared across the side of his face, but neither took notice because her breaths were coming short.

Suddenly a ray of hope rose in the distance as the sound of footsteps reached them. They were coming from the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. Draco shook her lightly, "See, I told you 'Mione. I told you someone would come."

She mumbled something incoherently and Draco could barely hear her.

"...don't...forget. promise..."

The light in her eyes seemed to go out and panic rose in Draco's chest. "HELP! Somebody help me! For the love of god – SOMEBODY!" The footsteps broke into a run.

"I'll come back...for you," she whispered.

Things were getting so dark. Hermione's hand fell from his face. He looked down at her in anguish. Her head rolled to the side and fell halfway into the pool of blood.

"Hermione?" She didn't answer, "Hermione! HERMIONE!"

Her dull amber eyes started, half-lidded at nothing; unblinking.

Inside the common room the music died away into silence and the CD clicked to a stop.

* * *


	37. Draco

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Seven: Draco

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Draco x Hermione ack-she-own.

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers.  Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.

--

A/N:  Short chapter.  The next few ones will be the same, but they'll be updated a little faster.

_"That's what you don't understand about all this, Draco. There **are** no sides. It's not about good and evil anymore."_

_Enlighten me," He said in contempt._

_Her deep amber eyes caught his. "It's about **faith**, Draco." She whispered._

Faith.

All his faith had been in her.  And now she was gone.

--

"Mister Malfoy.  You need to sleep."

The bottle of a Dreamless Sleep potion was thrust into his hand, but he didn't even look at it as she bustled away.  Pomfrey used to make sure her patients drank whatever she gave them, but not now.  She just didn't seem to care anymore.  The vial dropped from Draco's fingers and shattered on the floor.  Madame Pomfrey faltered a moment in her steps but never turned.

He pushed back the covers, barely managing to dodge the scattered shards of glass in his desire to leave.  The cold stones shot chills up through his bare feet as he disappeared out into the hallway.

--

_"A part of **me **will always be wondering if that's what you really want; not me. Always be wondering if you're thinking of this thing that's inside of me whenever we're together. And **that** is why I can't be with you. I can't go through a relationship always **wondering**."_

_"Draco, no matter what I've said...I love you." She coughed again and another trail of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth._

Then why did you leave?

--

The room was filled with light, and the huge windows lining the walls had no need for the thick drapes roped off to either side; they were never closed.  The sunshine reflected against the crystalline case lying upon a stand in the center and a burst of rainbow prisms danced across the wooden floor. 

Draco's hand grazed over the ribboned bouquet of roses he'd left that morning, surrounded by the thousands of flowers offered by others.  He quickly closed the distance to the case where she waited for him.  Save for the blue sundress she wore, she looked as though she were merely asleep, waiting for true love's kiss from a handsome prince to wake her.  Harry had picked the dress – it had been the one she'd worn that day in Diagon Alley barely two months before.  She'd been so happy and full of life.

Now she was empty of it.

"Hermione," he whispered.  He reached out to touch her face, but, as every attempt prior, his hand met with nothing more than cool crystal glass.  "I got away from Pomfrey.  I had to see you again..."

He always saw her – she was always there.  Her warm amber eyes were in every sunrise; her laughter in every whispered word late at night.  The wind carried her voice and her face was reflected in every suit of armor he passed.  Hermione Granger lived in every corner of the ancient castle.  He couldn't escape the memory of her and he didn't want to.  He wanted her with him until the day he died.

"I can't sleep without you, Hermione."  He'd said this all before, but the words kept repeating themselves.

--

_As she glided past him he couldn't resist the desire to wrap his arms about her. He reached out for her, but his grasping hands went straight through her. A smile played on her lips as she continued down the garden pathway._

--

"I used to dream of you, you know."  That, he'd never said before.  "Just seeing you there was enough, even if I couldn't touch you.  You were always there.  But now I can't sleep for fear you've left my dreams forever."

"I need you Hermione," he said.  "I need you here with me now.  I don't know what to do."

His fingers gripped the edge of the glass and his face contorted.

"Why did you leave me?  Why didn't you take me with you?  I want to be where you are – why can't I follow where you've gone to?"  He banged his fists on the crystal coffin, and the glass rattled but did not break.

"Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY?!" He screamed.  "That's all everyone is asking!  I can't give them an answer because I don't know it myself.  _I don't know what to do_..."

He pressed his palm against the glass over her clasped hands.  "You always were so much better at things like this..."

A bell rang out through the stone walls.  Class was changing.  He didn't move.  The sounds of passing students was unheard in the closed off room for it existed in the topmost part of the tallest tower.  She deserved that much at least.  The bell rang again signaling the end of passing time, but Draco shook his head.  Why should he go to class?  What was the point if Hermione wasn't there?  Nothing they could learn from a textbook now could save them from Voldemort.

--

_"Promise, whatever happens...don't lose hope."_

I tried Hermione, but I can't keep that promise.  Not without you here to show it to me.  I can't see things the way you could.

--

_"If only there had been more time..."_

Why did you wait so long to tell me, Hermione?  There's still so many things...

You never taught me trigonomimetry...

--

_"You **cannot** die -- you are the Sovereign of Light."_

Postvorta was wrong.

--

Burying his face in his arms, he cried.  The warm tears splattered against the glass coffin and rolled down the sides.  Beneath his shaking form, Hermione's face looked serenely up; her closed eyes unable to see the tears that fell against the crystal lid above her.

**BANG!**

One of the windows slammed open.  Then another.  And another.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

A cool autumn wind blew into the room, snuffing out the candles lining the walls.  The initial rush from pushing inside died, and the gentle breeze floated over to Draco stirring his hair and feeling icy against damp cheeks.

_"I'll come back for you..."_


	38. The Void

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Eight: The Void

Author: KissThis

--

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Drakie x Herm-own-ninny

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

--

Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers. Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.

--

A/N: Okay, here's the dealio. MUCHO short, but I wanted to get something out before I left. Sunday through Tuesday I shall be sans internet, and unfortunately immediately after that, on Wednesday, I'll be camping in Colorado for a week.

SO! Here's what we're hoping for upon my return (the 18th)

An Inevitable Fate 39

An Inevitable Fate 40

An Inevitable Fate 41 (?)

Tempting Propositions – it's my new Draco x Hermione fanfiction that I won't be posting any of until it's completed, so we'll see if I get that done in the cabin or not.

Gravity of Love Fic #3

A whole lot of goodies for you so hopefully you won't be terribly mad that I'm MIA for a week.

A small sparkle. A tiny glitter. Another one here...there. The milky whiteness that extended forever was filled with tiny crystals, no bigger than a thumb. Lights of all colors rose inside them pulsing and throbbing to blinding heights. Within the centers of the millions of tiny jewels small bodies began to materialize, drawing in the power from the corona of light and energy around them. Men, women, and children of all shapes, sizes, races, and descents formed into beings of immense purity, light and angelicism. Downy, white feathers layered atop each other forming great wide wings large enough to wrap around and protect their separate charges.

Great amber topazes glowed and softened, melting into wide, child-like eyes that blinked in wonder at the beauty and innocence of their whereabouts. Threads of the softest mahogany, and no larger than the gossamer weavings of a spider's web, were pulled from the white light surrounding the crystal from which her body was pulled. They twisted and wove about her head in blinding and wild patterns as if the hand of the Goddess herself were creating this being for the first time. Hundreds of perfectly formed curls were twisted into shape and hung past her shoulders, disappearing into the foggy mists."Hermione."The word was pulled and lengthened into an eerie, reedy whisper that echoed long after the voice behind it had died. The sound of it was hollow and at the same time, that of ringing bells. It was sound that lacked the harshness of reality and was not held down by any force - left simply to roam free throughout this dimensional plane.Hermione. The being paused a moment. Her ethereal wings swayed back and forth loosing pearled feathers upon her naked body. Was that her name? She knew of many names...the names of all creatures that had been born within the Void. The names of the ones yet to be created.......they all resided deep within her manifested body. She couldn't discern which name was hers, among the callings of the others. Nothing was certain in the Void. People didn't exist there, their souls did. They became one, with no feeling, no conscience, no sense of singularity. All those who resided within it lost themselves...their memories, their past, even their future was washed away in a sea of warm and unending light and safety."Hermione."The voice called again...it called to her. She hovered, hesitantly, above her glittering crystal marker, where she had materialized, and peered futilely out into the mists. Her wings lifted and extended to their full span. She leapt from her perch atop her crystal and soared high above the plane. Countless numbers of beings and "glitters" passed beneath her, but none held the voice that beckoned her.The tiny star that she had left behind appeared upon her breast in a spiral of glittering pixie dust. She swooped and dove with impossible ease and fluidity, never once needing to exert her energy upon it."Hermione."The voice was now behind her. She pivoted and winged left on the turn of a dime. Her wings folded against her back and she rocketed downwards. The mist curled and spiraled away from her as she streamlined downwards towards the origins of the voice that had lured her from her resting-place.A woman glided out from a shroud of fog, making the being backwing suddenly to avoid crashing into her. The being the voice had called Hermione stared in interest at the beautiful woman before her.Her hair was that akin to sunshine on a warm summer's day – bright yellow, like freshly spun gold. The waves of her hair reached her waist in flickering waves that gave the heavenly illusion of golden flames rippling down her back. Small, oval sapphires melted into glittering ocean orbs that shone with a power that rivaled that of the being named Hermione.When the woman spoke it indeed confirmed to "Hermione" that this was she would had beckoned her here. "Hermione..." The woman pulled Hermione down to the "ground" of the Void, if that's what you could call it for it all blended together in an all encompassing fog.Hermione's crystal marker began to glow and then it disappeared into her body. A small orb of light passed from her chest to her feet and reappeared beneath her as her glittering star. The crystal sunk down to the "floor", bringing Hermione with it like an anchor.The woman was smiling at her as if they had known one another in another time. Hermione's brow furrowed and she tilted her head slightly to the side as she studied the woman. Her mind was strangely empty save for the same fog that floated around her. She blinked blankly as the woman reached out to hug her. Her arms were loose at her sides and the strange woman pulled away in remorse.Hermione had no recognition of the soul, or the being, floating in front of her. Nothing was familiar here, not even her own voice had a memory within her as she spoke, "You called me Hermione..." She paused thoughtfully. "Is that my name?""Don't you remember?" The woman asked or her. The sapphire eyes faltered. "Not even me?""There is nothing in the Void." Hermione said simply in a deadpan voice. "No memories...........did you have a name?""Hope. I was called Hope."

"Hope," she murmured. Hermione showed no recognition at the name. The woman, now revealed to Hermione as "Hope" stared hard at her before shaking her head. Hermione was confused. She held a clasped hand to her chest, nervously, and leaned forward slightly to stare back at the woman in front of her.

"You don't feel right," Hermione said, innocently. She floated over to Galaxia and turned her face towards her. She lifted a pale white hand to the tanned face and stroked it. Hermione's actions were alien to herself even as they were executed with age-old experience. Hermione was unsure if what she was doing was helping, because Hope had gone as still as stone beneath her hands.

"That is because I am not a soul. I don't belong here."

A small noise confused Hermione and she pulled her hand away, afraid that she had done something wrong. She looked up with curious amber eyes as Hope's body began to quake. She looked down at her own hand and found it still and unmoving. She lifted it upwards and stared at it with curious confusion, her eyes moving from Hope's shaking body to her own immobile one. Her strawberry pink lips pursed as she tried to "remember"...it seemed so familiar.She turned her palm to Hope and asked in earnest, "What makes your body shake so...?""Laughter," She chuckled, looking at the innocent soul before her."Laugh-ter?" She repeated the foreign word slowly in a halting voice. She looked up at Hope hesitantly and the woman nodded."I know '_laughter_'..." She said quietly, her voice still stumbling over the new word. The small crystal beneath her that held her in place began to pulsate with milky light. Her entire body began to thrum like the string of a harp and her entire concentration was bent on her cupped palm.

"I-I...used to laugh until...my sides hurt..." She whispered, touching her waist. She reached out her hand, tentatively reaching for some unseen vision in the mists. "So many happy faces..."

The light within her crystal marker exploded in a swirling nebula of glittering light and her hand flashed crimson. Hermione gasped and stumbled backwards. Hope called her name, but Hermione was deaf to the world around her.

All she could hear were the screams.

_-- and then she let go. The serpent face vanished, and the death eater screamed as he fell. The merpeople grinned wickedly and swarmed together as he fell upon them. Their high noises drowned out his screams of terror and they pulled him beneath the surface. The bubbles trailed off and the water became calm once more._

**Hermione screamed again, banging harder and harder. The wall was starting to form spidery, thin cracks that glowed white across the background of black.**

_"I'll never forget her face..." She laughed; a morose and pitiful sound. "...she didn't know what was happening, but she was scared all the same. She looked up at me...with that terrified face – _begging_ to know what was going to happen to her – and I..._I just walked away_." She shook her head. "I will **never** forget her face."_

_She closed her eyes. "And until the day I die – I'll hear her..._screaming."

**Bits were chipping off and clattering to the floor; pooling around her feet. Her power was draining.**

_As a Death Eater attempted to jump to her ship he found himself skewered on her glittering sword. Pointing her weapon downwards, she watched with a sickening detachment as his body slid free from her blade and crumpled to the deck. She closed her eyes and turned away from the blood oozing out across the wood._

_Lashing out, she kicked him square in the chest mid-leap and he toppled into the churning waters. Screeching merfolk surfaced around him. Hissing angrily and clawing at his body, they dragged him beneath the water._

**"You can't do this to me, Hope! You can't keep me here!" She howled into the shadow.**

_She spun, bring her leg with her and kicking at her attacker's outstretched wand hand with immense velocity and dead-on accuracy. A loud and sickening snapping sound, followed by the sound of wood-on-wood as his wand clattered to the deck, signified that she had broken his wrist, and most likely the majority of the bones in his hand._

_His screams of pain only fueled Hope's cries for death. His mask clattered to the ground and he cradled his twisted hand to his chest. Hermione reached out and grabbed the petrified man by the throat._

**With one last enraged scream she leapt back at the wall and punched straight through it.**

_The woman screamed as Hermione's arm pulled back readying to thrust her blade into her enemy. A feral cry tore from Hermione's lips as she fell upon her victim._

_Even as the tears dried upon her windblown cheeks, a sadistic grin curled Hermione's lips as her sword buried itself in the woman's body with such force that the tip of the blade pierced the wood of the deck. Blood sprayed into the air in a short lived fountain of life before receding to a gurgling expulsion of liquid as the woman's body rapidly cooled in death._

_The body, now barely recognizable as the woman's so mangled and coated in blood was it, slid down the blade with a revolting sound. Hermione lifted a blood-flecked hand and grasped the golden handle. With a small grunt she pulled it free from it's wooden sheath and then out of the woman's body through a mutilated slit where a mouth had once been._

_The man's body exploded. Blood sprayed everywhere as bits of human flesh rained down upon the damp grass. Hermione shuddered uncontrollably as she turned to face the Order. Crimson dripped from her pearly wings and the smell of iron filled her nose. Her entire body was drenched with blood._

_She screamed._

**Light burst through the fist-sized opening, blanketing Hermione's slumped form in it's blinding warmth.**

_The man was struggling to his knees. Not a single emotion crossed Hermione's face as she raised her sword above her head, point down. She'd retreated into her mind where there was nothing but white fog and the noise of static. There was no remorse as she buried her sword in his back._

_He was dead._

**Unable to move, she lay half-leaning against the beaten wall; struggling just to breathe.**

A single tear rolled down Hermione's ethereal face. She screamed into the fog as painful images demanded to be seen. Shadowed and dark...with angry crimson eyes filled with pain and chaos..."Voldemort." She whispered. _Her heart became so numb she couldn't even feel the sword in her hands. A chill ran through her. Seconds later it felt as if an icy hand had grabbed a hold of her heart. She gasped and flung her head upwards. The hand squeezed painfully and dug its nails inside her heart turning her gasp into a scream of anguish._

  
  
Hermione screamed again, and her wings wrapped around her trembling and writhing body. Her hands clutched her breast as if she would try to pull her heart from her chest to end the torture. The phantom pains left her panting and faint.  
  
Hermione looked up at Hope floating in front of her and saw the same blue eyes that were so empty and dead in her mind. She cowered in fear and fell to her knees. She clasped her throbbing head in her hands.

"What are you doing to me?!" Her bell-like voice echoed in high tones in the realm of dimensional nothingness. Hope knelt beside her and pulled the sobbing girl into her arms."Tears..." Hermione whispered, brushing long, slender fingers across her wet cheeks. "I know these too..."

Hope nodded into Hermione's hair, and cradled the woman's head in her own. She mirrored Hermione's previous action, and the rhythmic motions of her fingers soothed Hermione and calmed her.

"What is happening to me?" Hermione whispered. "There is nothing in the Void...only souls rest here...""Remember." Hope breathed, brushing the bangs from Hermione's eyes.  
  
  
  
_The orb exploded over her hands. The golden light seeped up her arms like melted gold. In awe she lifted up her arm and as it caught the dawn light liquid ambrosia dripped down onto her clothes, staining them saffron. Her eyes rolled back into her head showing only the haunting whites. But even they too were consumed by the light and turned to blinding gold._

_And she stood there...and let Hope overtake her. She felt herself slipping away, but did nothing to stop the energy from stealing her body from her. Only a deep sadness was left. And then she was no longer Hermione Granger. She was no longer a seventeen year old girl standing deadened in the fog._

_She was Hope..._

_Hermione cried out and fell against her. She clutched to the back of Hope's tunic and pressed her face against her shoulder. Hope's arms closed around her, and Hermione's face contorted into the cloth as she braced herself for pain. But none came._

_She pulled back enough so that she could look up at the child that held her. A ghostly face smiled down at her with dimpling cheeks. She could see straight through her, yet the spectral arms that held her felt as real as any human's. They were warm._

_"Hope," she whispered. "Hope, what's happening?"_

_Hope giggled and it was near empty sounding, echoing. "I'm just going away for a bit, but don't worry. I'll be back when you need me, silly girl."_

_Hermione gasped as Hope's arms slid through her back and the tiny child pulled herself inside of her. Like a bucket of icy water had been dumped over her, great chills spread throughout her body in waves. Her eyelids fluttered and as her support disappeared she fell face forward onto her bed._


	39. Surrender

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Thirty Nine: Surrender

Author: KissThis

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Draconis x Hermonia

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers. Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.

A/N: SO sorry it's been so long, but everything's just been in shambles. Computers have been dying all around me and a great deal of writing has been lost leaving me in tears. Fate is nearing its conclusion, however, and I should be able to rewrite the next chapter in the next 2-3 days. I REALLY hope you enjoy this chapter!

Fingers tightened around Hope's shoulders. She looked down at the creature in her arms and smiled. This was the one who selflessly sacrificed everything for others, and who wouldn't stop until happiness was found. This was the one who stood up against the world's greatest evil and fought bravely to overcome it. This was the woman who represented everything that was pure and right in the universe.  
  
This...  
  
Was...  
  
_She..._  
  
"Hope...where are the others?" She asked in suddenly with a fear-laced voice.

Hope frowned, and Hermione was torn between confusion and more tears. "They are back on earth. Alive and well – for the time being."  
  
"So it really happened," Hermione whispered. "I'm _dead_."

Hope nodded and helped Hermione to her feet, but held tight to Hermione's hand. "Hope?" 

"You fought bravely, my little warrior."

Tears dripped off Hermione's quivering chin and splattered against her fisted hands. "But it wasn't enough. I lost, and now Voldemort will destroy everything and everyone."

"No, no." Hope insisted, and Hermione's startled face showed her confusion. "You have done more than anyone could have hoped for. You've opened the pathway...the road to victory!"

"I don't understand..."

"The reason your soul tarries in the Void is because I wished to speak with you one last time before you crossed into the Other World. I want to repay the kindness you showed me during my time on Earth."

Hermione frowned, not only because Hope had ignored her confusion, but because the change in topics made no more sense to her than the previous one. Hermione's nails dug into the back of Hope's hand.

"Hope! You're not making any sense!"

The edge's of the blonde's eyes crinkled as she smiled softly, bringing her free hand to cup Hermione's cheek. She brushed the tears from her cheeks in a motherly fashion and ran the pad of her thumb across dewy eyelashes. "I was slipping, Hermione. My soul grew weak until I no longer knew the difference between myself and those whom I had ensnared; Jesus Christ, Kassandra of Troy, Joan of Arc, countless others. The pieces were falling through the cracks, falling faster than I had the time to place them back together."

Now she frowned, "Now that I am finally saying these words aloud I beg your forgiveness for whatever heinous crimes you were forced to commit under my spoiling influence. I had no desire to steal your innocence from you, and now you've paid the cost of my soul's discontent with your life."

Hermione said nothing. She did not weep or shout, but stood resolutely firm staring into pleading sapphire eyes. "May I see them, please?" she finally asked. Her voice was soft.

Hope hesitated, still yearning to hear those words that would pardon her trespasses, but no such words were uttered. Hermione could not give them to her. With a clearing of her throat, Hope waved her hand across the fog encircling them and motioned for Hermione to look closer.

Breath held, Hermione watched a picture form from the insubstantial mists. It was her bedroom, with its characteristic gold furnishings and dark mahogany bed frame. The lights were out and the midnight moon was too high in the sky to lend its light to the shadowed room. It didn't seem to matter though, as her eternal eyes cut through the gloom and illuminated what the darkness had concealed:

A shadowed shape was curled in a nest of gold silken covers, fervently twisting and writhing, jaw working to form cries that she could not hear.

"Harry..." she whispered.

Then, like Alice through the Looking Glass, the world within the picture came rushing up to meet her in a burst of Technicolor and popping sound.

He was screaming; screaming her name. "HERMIONE! Where are you?!" the words were harsh as they fell from his lips. His throat had gone raw from crying – she could still see the shining trails down his cheeks. Hermione reached out for him, but instead of raven locks her hands met only fog.

"I need you 'Mione." Harry was speaking again. "We've always brought our troubles to each others beds, but not that you're gone where do I go? Who do I turn to? How can I cry for you when you're not here to wipe away these tears?"

"Please, Harry." Hermione sobbed. "Please don't cry. I couldn't bare it if you cried because of me."

"COME BACK!"

She heard the sound of ripping silk before the scream and cried. Unable to bear the sight of best friend's violent anguish as he tore her room apart, she buried head in hands and wept. The sounds died away and Hermione saw through watery vision a Harry mourning, drawn up against a shattered bedpost, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Don't go where I can't follow..." he whispered, but Hermione heard it as loudly as if he'd shouted it from atop Gryffindor tower.

The image of her bedroom faded to gray, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stop her body's shaking as she fought back racking sobs.

"Why couldn't you have just let Harry be the bloody hero."

That was Ron's voice.

"Ron?" She watched the gray curtain roll back and the face of her friend come into view.

He was angry; angrier than she'd ever seen him, the red of his face bleeding all the way to his roots. He was striding down an unknown hallway, long-legged gait carrying him faster than Hermione could discern where he was by examining the portraits lining the wall. He was in the dungeon, but any more than that she could not tell.

"Everyone was fine with Harry as champion. Why couldn't you just leave it be?" The hands swinging at his sides clenched into fists. "Why did it have to be _you_ that died?"

Hermione shook her head, forgetting for a moment in her distress that he could not see her. "No, Ron! You mustn't say such things!"

"I wish your places had been exchanged; that Harry had died and you had lived." He lashed out at the wall and the young girl in the portrait shrieked as the frame fell from its nail and crashed to the floor.

Hermione's hands went to her throat, pressing against the sticky trails left by endless tears. "You don't mean that," she breathed. "You _can't_ mean that. Oh Ron! He's your friend! Please, you cannot mean that..."

She tried once more – desperately tried – to fling herself into the vision, but the fog dwelling picture passed straight through her body. Reappearing on the other side, Hermione crumbled inwards on herself, hugging herself hysterically for comfort that would not come.

"I will avenge you," He whispered. Hermione whirled around and found the picture had righted itself onto her side of the fog. The slightly transparent scene overlaid Hope's sad face.

Ron had always had a short-temper and was quick to jump to inappropriate solutions, but this time he looked serious. _Dead_ serious. To Ron, 'avenging' meant killing, and to the rest of the world that meant murder.

"Damn it, Ron! Come to your senses," She yelled. Her voice echoed in the Void's emptiness. "You'll go to Azkaban!"

He stopped suddenly, and for a vain moment Hermione believed she'd actually gotten through to him. But then there occurred a faint rustling sound, like paper kept too long in a crumpled ball now being finally smoothed out. It was a picture.

Picture Hermione was laughing into the wind and sipping on a soda can, her eyes on the shoreline. Childish as always, when the photograph moved (as wizards photos are apt to do) Picture Ron leaned over the side of the boat and sent a hearty splash at Picture Hermione.

It had been taken on the day of her birthday, and completely without her knowledge. She could see Ginny and Draco tubing in the background so it must have been Harry. The photograph was so crumpled it seemed that Ron had been carrying it around with him all this time.

A large wet dot splattered against the shiny surface and Picture Hermione looked up in surprise. Callused fingers quickly wiped the photograph clean again and shoved it back into his pocket.

"I will kill the man who murdered you." The vow set him walking again, and Hermione gave up on trying to follow the twisting turning path he was leading through the dungeons.

Hermione's heart was pounding beneath her breast. The man who had stabbed her was already dead, she'd seen it with her own eyes. That left Harry; who, it seemed, Ron blamed for her death. But Harry wasn't in the dungeons...was he? How much time had passed?

A door blasted open, and Hermione realized that Ron's fist no longer clenched air. Wand in hand, he burst into the exposed room.

Cushioned walls and matted floors. There was a yellowish light emanating from the fluorescent light fixtures fixated to the ceiling; only a few rooms in the whole castle possessed electricity. For some settings it was a necessity. Light glinting off metal caught her eye and her eyes darted across the weapons hanging upon the walls.

She knew this place...

This was the dueling room.

"Oh God!" she gasped, all her air suddenly spent.

"You didn't train her well enough!" Ron shouted, flinging out his wand arm. His face was screwed up in rage, but tears in his eyes caught the light and made his blue orbs shine. "YOU'RE THE REASON SHE'S DEAD!"

At the other end of Ron's wand, Severus Snape did not look up. He was staring down at his hands as if he'd never seen them before, and clutched in them was Hermione's giant long sword. The assassin's blood still stained the blade and the sticky liquid dulled the steel's sheen.

Ron stepped forward and the tip of his wand grazed his professor's jaw. "You killed Hermione," he hissed accusingly, grinding the wooden cylinder into flesh.

Snape didn't even blink. "You're right."

"NO!" Hermione shrieked, but the picture was already fading to gray. "NO! No, no, no, no, NO!" She screamed as if that one monosyllabic word held all her hopes and emotions.

The picture changed again, and this time she was looking into the comforting familiarity of the Gryffindor common room. She almost couldn't bring herself to look at the picture. Her thoughts were still at the other end of the castle, where disaster was near to occurring. Sniffling and still wiping ineffectually at her eyes, Hermione found her newest gaze to be turned to Ginny. Hermione began to smile, despite her internal anguish, because the younger girl looked exactly as she would any other day, curled up on the couch reading a book.

"That's my Ginny," Hermione whispered through a watery smile.

She leaned closer and found with warming remembrance the book to be _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. She loaned it to Ginny ages ago, but had never remembered to ask if she had read it. The cover had been flipped open as well as a few title pages so that the beginning of the first chapter lay unobtrusively in Ginny's lap.

The numeral 'one' that decorated the aging paper was so elaborate and decadent that it took up most of the page, and Hermione read the half page of text quickly, smiling as she fell into the soothing rhythm of a good book. She waited anxiously for Ginny to turn the page – she wasn't sure if there'd be any good books in Heaven, or any at all for that matter – but the page never turned.

"Ginny?" She waited. And waited.

With a strangled cry that made Hermione jump in her skin, the book tumbled from Ginny's limp hands onto her lap and couch, until finally landing upside down upon the carpeting. Slender fingers tried to find purchase on the tightly upholstered sofa, then Ginny sighed as she toppled off the couch and joined her book sprawled out on the hard floor. She'd fainted dead away.

With eyes now closed, Hermione could see they were red from rubbing and there was a pink flush across her skin that no make-up or embarrassment had given her. The frail girl had cried herself into exhaustion.

"Why?" Hermione's demand was softened by the quiet tone of her voice. "Why do they cry?"

She wanted ever so much to reach out and gather the youngest Weasley into her arms, but past experience told her it was pointless. She was a spectator – nothing more. Besides, the vision was turning that empty gray she'd already grown to hate. Her wings ruffled slightly as she half-hopped, half-floated back to Hope.

"Is this true despair? Now that hope is gone?"

Hope clasped both of Hermione's hands and drew her close, nodding into thick chocolate curls. "Yes. This is true despair." Her hands squeezed Hermione's suddenly. "But it is not my passing they mourn. It is _yours_."

Hermione stiffened.

"Hope can never truly die," she continued quickly. "Humans _can_. That is the fate of all mortal things."

Hermione closed her eyes and buried her face in the crook of Hope's shoulder. "What now?"

"Now we will talk of the favor I grant you in return for your kindness—"

Hermione shook her head, and Hope cut her words short. "First, show me Draco." Her whispered voice was muffled by skin and hair. "Then we will talk of this favor..."

Hope nodded, though time was short, and gestured at the cloud of fog once more. Allowing Hope's arms to remain around her, Hermione twisted in the blonde's grasp and fixed both amber eyes on the receding gray.

The room was daunting – filled to the brim with flowers and candles, the walls decorated with sketchings of herself she recognized to be from Seamus' drawing book – but she only had eyes for the boy lying slumped against a glass dais.

The room's centerpiece, she was taken-aback to find her immobile body trapped within the crystal coffin. The glass above her throat was fogged, as Draco's warm but ragged breaths steamed the surface of her tomb. Wind from an open window ruffled his bangs, and a smile crept onto her face as the familiar urge to brush them back made her fingers tingle.

He'd fallen asleep trying to press his body through the glass barrier and Hermione's body had, for obvious reasons, made no move to assist him. Hermione could have lived with this memory of him in her heart for the rest of Eternity. But some cruel trick of candlelight illuminated the liquid paths running down the sides of the crystal coffin and Hermione's heart broke.

As he slept he cried...

...cried for _her_.

"No more," she rasped, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the room – and Draco – were gone. She was suddenly so very cold...

"Hermione – we must hurry!" Hope's voice wavered slightly, alerting Hermione to the other's need. Pulling back, she turned to face the blonde woman, arms wrapped around her torso.

"What is this favor?"

"Because you saved my soul I will give you the choice of whom I inhabit next – to destroy Voldemort. It can be _anyone_."

Hermione's stomach dropped to the tips of her toes. Unbidden, the faces of her friends flashed in her mind. "I can't do that," she said. "I cannot sacrifice one of my friends."

Hope's fingers curled and the fog above her hand twisted into a tiny orb. "It does not have to be one of your own."

Faces of people she'd never met flashed through the tiny globe. They smiled at her with happy, innocent faces – taunting the decision she was being forced to make. She shook her head violently, pushing Hope's hand away.

"No!"

"War is coming to Earth; you _must_ choose!" Hope insisted.

"How can I?" was Hermione's counter. "You're asking me to pick and choose between innocent people."

"Who will you choose?"

Hermione back winged, drifting into the fog. Hope watched her with sapphire eyes so penetrating, she had to look away. Hermione sunk to her knees, her crystal marker disappearing in a puff of sparkled before it was crushed beneath her weight. The tiny jewel reappeared above Hermione's hands. She cupped her palms instinctively to catch the crystal, but it remained passively floating several inches above them. She reached uncertainly up and the gem balanced itself upon the tip of her finger. She watched with distracting fascination as the crystal rotated lazily on its axis.

"Hermione, please! You must choose _now_."

Hermione's toying fingers stopped, but the jewel looked no differently than before. She didn't get up, actually going as far as to fold her pearly wings against her back.

"A name!"

Cool amber eyes locked with sapphire. "Hermione Granger."

Hope recoiled as if she'd been struck.

"_What_?!" She choked.

"You said I could ick _anyone_, Hope. I choose myself." Hermione resolutely argued.

"You're dead!"

"I know it's in your power to bring me back..."

Hope, shaking her head furiously as if that would dissuade her, opened and shut her mouth several times, floundering, before she finally managed a strangled 'no'.

"No," she repeated -- more firmly this time. "I won't." 

"YES, YOU WILL!" Hermione screamed. Hope stumbled back, the tips of her wings tangling between her elgs. "I _will not_ sacrifice another persons life."

"_I told you_," Hope keened. "It doesn't have to be someone you know--"

"Not. This is _my_ responsibility and mine alone. I intend to finish what I started, no matter what the cost." Hermione's hands were clenched into fists, matching the angry look on her face. But Hermione knew that it was not for fear of her that made Hope cower.

"But you don't understand." Hope's voice was near hysterical. "Your thread's been cut! You were fated to die that night!"

Hermione's reply was terse, "I understand that, but--"

"You _don't_! You have a chance to cross over into the other world! To be at peace! Please, be content with death and allow your soul to pass!"

Wringing her hands, and eyes filled with tears, Hope had crumbled into a complete mess. Something cold settled in Hermione's stomach, and she knew that this conversation was leading to something bad. Even with forewarning, Hermione opened her mouth to ask the inevitable question.

"What's going on, Hope?" She asked, the words forming slowly -- already dreading the answer.

"If I send you back, you'll lose your place in eternity. The Fates will send your soul to purgatory. You'll be stuck in limbo _forever_!"

Hermione couldn't even draw breath to speak. She didn't see Hope move, but felt her arms go around her waist as Hope embraced her from behind. Blonde hair tickeled her cheek as Hope's chin rested on her shoulder. The arms around Hermione's midsection tightened as their owner pressed her face into the crook of Hermione's neck.

"I've already killed your body," she whispered; lips against skin. "Please don't make me kill your soul as well..."

Hermione shivered and watched a gentle flow of tears roll off the curve of her breasts and disappear into the fog. Hope was crying. She didn't know how long she'd stared dispondently out into the Void when the mists suddenly rolled back.

White shores...

...and beyond that -- green fields...

...as far as the eye could see.

Hermione waited, hoping for half a second to hear to dulcted tones of a harp or the joyous chorus of angels. But there was no sound. Just a numbing bliss at the end of a long journey.

Hope squeezed her again, only a half-step away from ivory sand.

Hermione felt the weariness seeping through her body and wanted nothing more than to lay upon the sand and give in to the sleep that could only come from complete and utter tiredness of the spirit.

"Choose another name..." Hope whispered throatily against Hermione's neck, slicked wet by the blonde's own tears.

Lush green hills...she could smell the wildflowers dotting the crests. Her wings shifted over Hope's arms. Restless. The smell of the sea was strong; beckoning. It called to her, whispering her name on the salt breeze that stirred her curls across her face, whispering alluring promises. Crying out, beseeching her to cross.

"You're finally here..."

Hermione's eyes burst wide and she neraly stumbled that final half-foot. Teras brimmed and she could out in a voice that echoed like a lost child:

"_Mummy_?"

Helen Granger's face held a warm smile as she stepped up to the barrier. Hands flew to Hermione's mouth and she sobbed as joyful tears poured down her cheeks.

"We've missed you, princess."

Only Hope's arms around her waist kept her standing.

"_Daddy_?" she croaked.

Robert Granger smiled as he appeared before her, putting his arm aorund her mother's shoulders.

"I can't believe it's really you," Hermione sobbed.

They were all smiles. Her mother opened her arms. Inviting. "Come home, love."

Hermione continued to weep. The gesture was all too familiar and memories resurfaced of warm nights curled up against her mother watching the fire crackling in the hearth; the sound of crinkling paper as the crisp pages of a new book were turned, her father reading aloud. She remembered those arms -- wrapped around her, stroking her hair, holding her tight. She knew she'd be safe in those arms. Warm. Protected.

"Go to them," Hope pleaded, her breath whistling across the shell of her ear. "They've been too long without their daughter."

"Mum. Dad."

This time Hermione did crumple to the floor, her knees giving out from beneath her. Hope fell with her, cradling the crying girl against her.

"I'm _so sorry_." She whimpered.

Hope's body stiffened beneath her, _willing_ her to cross the invisible line that separated the Void from eternal peace. Featers knocked loose from their twin sets of wings rained down upon the nakedly sprawled women. One caught in Hermione's bushy curls.

"There are bigger things at work here than you and I." Hermione spoke the words softly, forcing herself to meet her parents' eyes.

Then something inside her broke. "Take me back."

With identical looks of dibelief, her mother's arms dropped and the doors of fog slammed shut. Burying her face in her hands she wept.

"You're the bravest human I've ever known..." Hope said into the silence.

Hermione had no energy to argue -- she could only cry.

"Is your eternal soul worth the lives of people you've never met?"

Hermione choked on her answer; "Yes."

"_Why_?" Hope was genuinly curious.

"Why not?" The soft-spoken reply threw Hope.

Hermione's murky gaze was off in the fog above and her tear-stickened face was pressed to Hope's navel. "All life is precious. Ot's a gift that should be cherished and protected at all costs. It is through life that we have friends, that we have _love_."

Light appeared above her head, and she knew Hope's sapphire eyes were bleeding to amber. Power washed over her and she sighed as it flitted across her skin.

"But there is also suffering." Hope's soothing soprano was low and hollow, the ancient power now invoked. "In all lives there is anger, hatred. Sickness and death."

Hermione could hear the frown in her voice and she smiled. Speaking softly through her tears, Hermione answered; "_But there is always love..._"

Echoing prophetically in the empty Void, Hermione's final word remained even after her soul disappeared.

Still sitting upon the ground with her legs bent around her, Hope reached out and carefully picked Hermione's lingering soul crystal into her hands. Empty amber eyes watched it dissolve and its glittering remains scatter into the fog.

"Goodbye...my brave little warrior..."

With the tears still drying on her cheeks, Hermione was flung back into her body.


	40. The End of All Things

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Chapter Forty: The End of All Things

Author: KissThis

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Malfoy x Granger

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers. Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.

A/N: Sorry about the delay – had to recreate. Hope you enjoy this chapter, as I liked it very much when I was writing it.

Dedication: This one is dedicated to my muse, Meg, who, for some reason, has stuck by me through all my faults and complaints – making sure I know when I'm being stupid, and keeping me from throwing myself in front of a moving bus every time my laptop broke. She has shaped me into a better person, and I know for a fact that this story would never have been finished without her. I am eternally grateful to you, Meg, and I am lucky to have known you.

There was no air.

She gasped, trying to fill long-deprived lungs with oxygen, but there was no sound. Trapped within its crystal coffin, Hermione's body bucked, demanding the air that wasn't there. Palms, pressed against the lid, she shoved. Nothing. Her body spasmed wildly and her lips kissed the hard glass.

She was going to die again without ever facing Voldemort.

She screamed – wordless and literally breathless.

**CRACK!**

Thin, spidery lines branched out over the glass, showering her with fine glass dust. Amber light burst outward and the glass shattered.

Massaging her throbbing throat as she gulped in air, Hermione looked around. The room was different than when she had seen Draco in it. How much time had passed? There were still flowers everywhere, but now every inch of wall space was covered in parchment. Pictures, letters, poems...

She slid off the glass-littered dais and her wobbly legs nearly slipped on the uneven ground. She looked down, fighting off the sudden spell of dizziness to see that she was standing atop a mound of books. Shifting her bare feet she read the title of the topmost book.

_Gone With The Wind_.

It had been one of her favorites. And beneath that..._Sherlock Holmes_.

She was vaguely aware of the sirens going off in the background. Apparently, the Order had been afraid that Voldemort would try and take her body – for what purpose Hermione could only imagine in her most terrifying nightmares.

And then, over the scream of the alarm, Hermione heard the distant sounds of a battle.

It had begun.

She spun around, searching for something – _anything_ to use as a weapon. Hovering on its tip, encased in a glass canister, was her wand. Darting around her ruined tomb to the matching pedestal she didn't even pause to think before her fist crashed through the box.

The sirens became louder.

Hermione grabbed her wand and ran.

Up, up, up.

She forced her legs to go faster as she raced up the flight of stairs just outside her room. They'd placed her in the tallest tower and that meant she'd be able to reach the front of the school if she could find a way onto the roof.

A window!

She balanced her weight against it and heaved. It groaned in protest, agreeing with the long decades that had kept it sealed shut. Hinges were blasted off in desperation by Hermione's drawn wand, allowing her to scurry out onto the dangerously sloped turret. The square window – frame, glass, and all – skidded down the roof in front of her and disappeared over the edge. Several shingles knocked loose by the disturbance followed after, clattering to the courtyard beneath.

Running around to the tower's north side, she leapt across a wide gape in the roof line – adrenaline overcoming her better judgment – and landed on the next tower's roof. Her knees screamed from the taking the brunt of the impact. Vibrations of pain shook her legs and when she got up too quickly they nearly buckled.

Her legs finally did give out as she forced herself to run around the spire. She fell hard on her backside leaving a trail of uprooted shingles as she slid down the side of the roof. Her feet hit the rampart first, then the rest of her body as she pitched forward from the unbalanced landing.

Bruised fingers gripped the stone battlements, and pulling herself upright, Hermione looked out over the battle for Earth.

Bodies littered the ground, good and evil alike. Those that weren't dead would be soon, trapped beneath the trampling feet of friend and foe. It was a scene of carnage; both sides surging back and forth, retreating with fewer numbers than the time before – men and women lost beneath the mass grave that encompassed the once peaceful grounds of Hogwarts castle.

But amidst the cooling bodies and the mauled flesh, bursts of green fought their way out of a scorched and blood soaked earth. A bright piece of life trying to survive in this moment of evil and death.

Spring had come to Hogwarts. And with it the most terrible war the wizarding world had ever faced.

Blue and red robed bodies fanned out across the castle entrance, guarding the keep from invasion and protecting the youngest children still inside. Making up the front line were the teachers and black-cloaked students of Hogwarts itself, holding back Voldemort's raging forces. They were being pushed back, unable to keep up with the jump in the Death Eater's attacks.

There were cries from the front and the line retreated. The unfortunate front line of Death Eaters, sensing victory, rushed forward. Blood red sparks exploded into the sky from Durmstrang wands and with ferocious roars they surged past the Hogwarts students, crashing into the Death Eaters and cursing a bloody path through them. But they were not alone.

From the concealing shadows of the castle's sides – amid a cacophony of shrill cries, growls, and shrieks – the second wave joined the battle. A dozen centaurs led the charge, but they were quickly over passed by a pair of rampant chimaeras. The first leapt into the fray, cutting a horrific path deeper into the Death Eaters' ranks, clawing, biting, and tearing limbs from their sockets. The second followed the path of carnage left by its mate – entrails, appendages, and blood exciting its already raised fervor – and together the pair fought deeper, snapping at the heels of fleeing Death Eaters.

Beneath Hermione's feet, the great entrance doors were pulled open by four students, and a rush of Cornish pixies, doxies, and fairies whizzed out followed on the ground by a vast assortment of creatures – all making a straight beeline for the masked figures in the distance.

Flying straight over the front line being held back by the centaurs, the pixies dove down on the second nipping, biting, tugging, pulling, scratching, and turning the Death Eaters in annoyed circles, without enough strength to be any more than a diversion. But that was enough, and as Hermione looked expectantly downwards she saw her peers, amidst the flood of ashwinders underfoot, firing spells into the distracted second line

A tremendous roar thundered through the shouts of battle, and Hermione threw her head back as a scaled underbelly passed over her. A great plume of bright orange fire added to Norbert's entrance as the magnificent dragon winged around the valley and set his sights on the Death Eaters below.

This was Hermione's plan! The one she'd spent days and countless hours in the library preparing, revising, and mapping out – and it was working!

With mounting excitement, Hermione's breath caught as she heard the echoing hawk-like cries arise from the grounds. Half a dozen anxious Beauxbaton students shot off crackling blue sparks, and they and their hippogriff mounts took to the sky to join their dragon ally.

She watched the battle continue onwards, but to her dismay, Voldemort's forces were pushing them back despite help. Setting her jaw, Hermione knew that it was time to join the battle – that they wouldn't win this war without her.

Taking a deep breath she lifted her hand into the air and summoned her power. Light shone in five identical streaks from her finger tips, curving as they shot up into the air and falling back down upon her. Ribbon-like energy exploded from her chest to meet them and the bright white tendrils wrapped themselves around her in complicated twists and knots, burying her sundress beneath their glare. The light faded back into her hand and she was left in the all too familiar black gown and the weight of gossamer wings between her shoulder blades.

Brown-haired and amber-eyed, she was still Hermione Granger. The power that was now mixing with the blood that coursed through her veins was not Hope's. It was her own.

Pressing her wand to her skin, she watched the smoothly polished wood sink beneath the flesh of her right forearm and disappear. Clenching her other hand, there was a jolt of lightening and her blade appeared, pristine and honed to a deadly sheen.

The flashes of light had been too short to draw attention, and for the moment the masses below remained unaware of her presence. Hermione had one foot lifted onto the guardrail – preparing to leap off – when some trick of fate caused the Death Eaters to part in such a way that for the smallest second she could see straight into their center. She glimpsed a scaled hand and glowing crimson eyes before the bodies converged again obscuring Voldemort from sight.

He was hiding within his followers, their bodies providing a far more effective shield than any wall or spell. Voldemort's death was the only thing that would end this brutal war, but that would never happen if he remained concealed. Voldemort had no sense of honor – he felt nothing but the unquenchable desire to preserve himself – and despite how cowardly it might appear, he would not reveal himself.

Hermione had no choice. She had to call him out.

Bringing her sword downward in a fierce, two-handed swing to slam against the stone in a burst of sparks, she screamed at the top of her lungs; "VOLDEMORT!"

The Death Eaters stumbled back in disbelieving shock and fear, leaving the startled forces of light to search for the cause of their retreat. As the entire battlefield's attention was turned to her, she flung out her right hand and a giant white wall of energy slammed into place dividing the two forces for a short time. She didn't want the Death Eaters taking advantage of the shock her appearance was about to bring.

Cries filled the air, and she could pick out her name being screamed into the beginning chaos. Some of them were falling to their knees, others had lifted their arms to her, raised faces visibly tear-streaked. Hermione's gaze darted over them quickly, but she forced her eyes back to where she'd seen Voldemort. She didn't want to find her friends' faces absent from the few left standing.

Reptilian hands shoved their way through black robes, as an angry Dark Lord shoved his minions roughly aside, until they finally relented and backed away until the furious wizard was left standing in an open circle, lined with the Dementors who'd deserted Azkaban prison.

Some of the students took this opportunity to cast their curses at the exposed wizard, but the swirls of magic died away before ever reaching him. Voldemort hadn't stayed alive this long without hundreds of both ancient and modern shields alike protecting him.

"YOU!" He hissed. He crooked inhuman claws at her, and Hermione shivered. She'd forgotten he was more animal than man. No matter how strong she thought she was the thought of what Voldemort could do to her terrified her. "YOU DIED!"

Hermione took the last step up onto the parapet, her bare feet gripping the slick stone as the wind whipped violently around her. "The next time you kill someone you'd better make sure they stay dead!" she called back.

Now she turned to the men and women standing just below her, all staring up at her in awe and wonder. "Listen," she cried. "I know you're tired, and I know that there's grief. But this is not the time! The time to mourn will come – the time for _faith_ is now! You must let go of everything – every fear, every doubt, leave nothing but the faith behind. It's stronger than you know, stronger than anything you've ever believed, stronger even than _hope_."

She looked down at their trusting faces, and lost her breath. They had faith in _her_. They were willing to follow her to whatever end – even if it cost them their lives. Her hands clenched. She could _not_ fail them. "Every human being possesses a great slumbering power until awakened by a keen desire and by a definite resolution to do. This battle will be won on our faith, and the trust we place in the love of our friends. Trust, faith, and love..." she said earnestly. "...evil can know no greater enemy."

"I ask you now to stand – stand, and fight back! There may be a day when our strength fails, our courage wanes, and we break all sense of loyalty. But we are _strong_, and today is not that day. This day – WE END IT!"

Thrusting her sword into the air, she cried out; "FAITH!"

"FAITH!" They echoed her – taking up the call! The passionate battle cry rose in waves, falling away only to be shouted all the louder again.

"FAAAAAAAAITH!" Hermione screamed and leapt off the parapet. At the same time, her quickly constructed wall disappeared, and her warriors surged forward with renewed zeal, their wands glowing and their mouths opened in fanatical cries.

Soaring over the mass of Death Eaters, Hermione sliced her sword downward and an arc of energy echoed the motion, cutting into a half dozen men with sizzling energy. In response, the men's' surrounding comrades shot their killing spells up at her. She dodged two and absorbed another three into her sword, changing the energy and storing it away inside of her.

She shot upwards, higher into the clouds, and out of their sight. A ball of white light flared to life in her right hand and she blasted it downwards from where she'd come. Disappointed, her attack was too long in coming and most of the Death Eaters managed to dodge it, causing less damage than she'd hoped for.

Ducking back below the cloud cover she surveyed the battlefield. A shriek from a creature that had never been human drew her notice and she watched as a Dementor from Voldemort's guard, engulfed in flames, was buried beneath a swarm of crawling ashwinders.

_Fire hurts them...I can work with that_, she thought. Adjusting her hold on her sword, she brought her fingers to her lips and whistled shrilly. A great roar echoed her. Folding her wings against her back, Hermione allowed herself to free-fall straight down to earth. At the last second, her wings unfurled with a **SNAP!** and she landed softly upon the juncture between Norbert's neck and shoulders.

Guiding the dragon around, she urged him in Voldemort's direction. Arcing right over them, Norbert turned on a wingtip and let out a great burst of flame in a burning half-circle. Some of the Dementors resolutely maintained their duty of protection, but most took to the air shrieking as their comrades were turned to ash. Voldemort's furious face followed her as she soared past.

Vengeful demons, the Dementors surrounded her, and Hermione screamed as Norbert's wings faltered and they fell. She sent a blast back at them and the burst did not harm them, but it scared them into falling back. Norbert steadied himself again and they rose back upwards.

Greedy for another taste of the dragon's happiness, the Dementors took up pursuit. Hermione managed to hold them off with a few well aimed balls of energy, but one would sometimes get too close and Norbert's scaled body would shudder beneath her. She led Norbert in complicated aerial maneuvers, but the Dementors would not be deterred.

Slashing out at one with her sword she forced it to the side, and turned Norbert in a sickeningly tight turn to face her aggressor. "NOW!" She yelled over the wind, and two bold jets of fire burst from the dragon's nostrils. Shrieking and flailing pitifully the creature fell burning from the sky and disappeared into the battle below.

Silver flashed across her vision and another Dementor flew over her head. Urging Norbert forward, she chased the fleeing creature. "NOW!" She shouted once they were close enough, and a second Dementor joined the first as an ashy pile amongst the bodies.

Circling back to the remaining demons, her eyes caught silver again and her heart soared as a great, glowing stag barreled into one of the Dementors sending it spiraling her way. Norbert eagerly incinerated it, without waiting for her signal.

"Harry," she whispered.

The Patronus fell into step beside the flying dragon, its galloping hooves grazing the clouds. The last two Dementors appeared screeching in front of them, and the silvery stag leapt ahead of her. Drawn to the feeling of happiness, they converged on it – they're slitted mouths wide, trying to suck the creature inside of them. The stag never halted its pace, and the Dementors never even moved as it trampled them, knocking them out of the sky.

"NOW!"

Norbert's flames caught them as they fell and their still roasting bodies hit the ground with a wet, splattering sound. Hermione turned at the waist to look back at the conjured Patronus.

"Thank you, Harry." She whispered – the wind catching the words.

Then the stag bowed its magnificent head – as if it had heard her – and disappeared. Hermione didn't try to repress the joy that now filled her heart. _Harry was alive_. And he knew she was alive as well.

Wishing for more sport, Norbert turned towards the diminishing forces of the Dark Lord, and Hermione unfurled her wings, catching the wind and allowing it to push her back, and off of the dragon. She swooped down over the fighting students, and the cheers of 'faith' began again in earnest.

Alighting atop the rampart once more, Hermione looked out over the battle from her vantage point. "COME OUT!" She shouted. "FACE ME, VOLDEMORT!"

Her heart in her throat, and her hand painfully gripping the handle of her sword, she watched the Dark Lord rise into the air. No wings, or spells, but the pure strength of his will held him in the air. "Are you going to kill me?" he sneered, and she heard every word as if the distance between them were naught but a few inches.

"Yes," she replied evenly.

"You can't kill me..." he hissed, tongue slipping between fanged teeth.

Hermione lifted her sword in front of her face, and mustered her courage. "May God have mercy on you, for you'll receive none from me."

Voldemort laughed, and it was a painful, grating sound that churned the insides and raised the gooseflesh on her arms. The slit of a mouth cracked – looking as if his face was splitting – baring broken, jagged teeth in a mutilated smile.

"A Christian witch," he hissed, revealing what he'd found so amusing. "How _ironic_..."

He twirled his wand between spindly, brittle fingers – it hadn't been there a moment before. The beating of her heart sped up its thump-thumping against her rib cage. Still harboring the maniacal expression that passed for amusement on his snake-like face, he looked at her with the eerie eyes that haunted many a dreams. "Let us test your faith..."

Hermione didn't even realize he'd cast a spell before it washed over her and she felt something solid and unyielding slam into her back. Her head snapped backwards from the force of the blow and stars burst painfully across her vision. Another object crashed into the backs of her arms and her teeth rattled in her jaws. The smell of pine assailed her nose and ropes twisted around her wrists and ankles, binding her to the wood. She struggled automatically, but her fervent flailing only tightened her bonds.

Only seconds after it had been cast, Voldemort's spell was ended, and Hermione was left reeling. He was so powerful, that for all her supernatural abilities, she hadn't even seen it coming. Still in shock, she missed the second spell until blue light filled her vision. But even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to act fast enough.

There was itching in her palms, and she had one thought about its oddity, before pain exploded in her hands, shooting straight up her arms. Something slammed into her legs and blood sprayed outwards as the bones shattered. The same driving pain exploded in her crossed ankles, and only then did she scream. In the span of a mere second, her body had been mutilated and broken – too fast for her to scream until it was all over.

The ropes fell away and without their support her body sagged downwards and she screamed again, the objects impaling her tearing upwards through muscle and flesh. Voldemort's maniacal laughter echoed dully in her mind and she gritted her teeth against the pain to force her head to lift. People were screaming below her, and the realization of what Voldemort had done hit her.

He'd nailed her to a cross.

"What do you think of your God now?" He sneered. "Do you feel honored to share in his Son's humiliation?"

Hermione blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the tears and her head. But it was difficult. She couldn't breath. Why? Why couldn't she breathe? She forced herself to remember.

_Asphyxiation_

That's right. In this position her lungs were terribly compressed and her trouble exhaling was due to their hyperextension. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself upwards by her arms, using the nail through her ankles as something to press against. The pent up carbon dioxide exploded outwards and she sucked in another breath of air. The pain was excruciating, but she was able to breath. Quite apart from the pain however, the position was tiring to maintain for long periods of time.

She could have lasted hours, her body slowly suffocating as her legs lost the strength to support her, but Voldemort wasn't known for his patience. With shattered legs she'd be dead in minutes.

"Is this the mighty champion of God and the Light?" His hissing laughter, cut at her heart. "I've broken you with a single spell."

Her arms were shaking from the effort of support her and her precious breaths were gasps of pain. "You cannot break me."

"If you could only see yourself," Voldemort laughed. "You are a pitiful and ruined little girl."

Hermione's arms failed her and she fell downwards to the sound of tearing flesh. She cried out, but unable to exhale, her scream was a gurgling and piteous sound. The warm blood that trickled down her wrists sped up as her panicked heart sped up the flow of blood. A soundless cough and dark black blood trickled from the corners of her mouth.

If she didn't suffocate first she'd succumb to cardiac failure, blood loss, shock or dehydration. None of which would be painless.

Lights swimming across her vision, she tried to curl her fingers around the wooden crossbeam and was rewarded with another surge of crimson. She heaved herself upwards, and then nearly fell again as stabbing pains burst up her shattered legs.

Panting at the effort, she traded for oxygen to fill her lungs – prolonging her death by suffocation for another few minutes. "Does it please you to watch me die?" she wheezed.

Through the curtain of her hair she saw that mangled excuse of a smile and felt nothing but regret that she hadn't killed him sooner. "I enjoy seeing your faith crumble."

Hermione laughed so suddenly that he jumped back. Blood sprayed from her lips, staining her teeth cherry and splattering scarlet specks across her chin and cheeks. "You know nothing of faith," she gasped, lips twisting in a tired and bloody half-smile. "You cannot _touch_ me..."

Voldemort snapped reptilian jaws and his red eyes flashed. "You shall die soon..."

"_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,_" she whispered. "**_I will fear no evil..._**" Hermione felt her soul pulling at its host of flesh, and she smiled despite the flaming pain, closing her eyes as she slipped away.

Hermione rose up above her body and watched the empty shell sag forward as the muscles in her arms spasmed and gave out. Floating around to the front of her body, she glanced at Voldemort, but his eyes went straight through her, fixated on the broken flesh she'd left behind; unable to see her. Lungs compressed, the breath died on rose red lips and her body shut down.

With Voldemort's triumphant cackles echoing behind her, Hermione slipped down into the battling ranks of students. She glided through the masses, touching some – just a hand on their shoulder – and they fell away, allowing her to pass. Their awe-filled faces were engrained in her memory and she would never forget the sound of their crying as she left them behind; realizing in her wake the awful truth.

There was a bright haze of green up ahead of her, and as the students parted she saw him waiting for her.

"Hermione?" his voice cracked. "Is it really you?"

She nodded, "Yes. Thank you for your help."

He hugged her so suddenly that she stumbled back a step, her body tensing up and her arms stuck stiffly out to the sides. His grip around her torso was so tight that for a moment she flashed back to the suffocation she'd felt upon the cross, but when she returned the embrace it was her supporting _him_ as his legs gave out.

"Everything's alright now, Harry," she whispered, running her hand through his raven hair, clumped together with dried blood.

"How?"

She comforted him, as a mother would a tiny child; rocking him in her arms and holding him close. "Faith," she murmured into his hair. "Have faith, Harry."

"You were dead..." Harry whispered. "I-I didn't think..."

"Shh," she hushed him softly. "I'm here now. I'll protect you."

The muscles in his back tightened beneath her hand and she frowned. She thought of pulling away, but Harry's fists were twisted in the black silk of her dress. "What's going to happen?"

"I'm going to destroy Voldemort once and for all."

"But what about you?"

Hermione shook her head, her curls bouncing against Harry's cheek. "There's not the time. I have to go, or it will be too late."

"Too late for what?" his voice held a tinge of distress.

Placing her hands over his, she pulled them from their vise-like grip and took a step back. Harry's face was smudged with dirt and his eyes were dark, but he'd fought back the tears. She smiled.

"You're so strong, Harry," she sighed. "Watch over the others and tell them goodbye for me..."

"We're here."

Red and silver flashed behind Harry's green light and she stepped aside to see them more clearly.

"Hermione...you're alive!"

Hermione's lips spread themselves in a thin line and she looked at the speaker with sorrowful eyes. "My death was no one's fault but my own, Ron." She said quietly, but the red-head flinched as if her words had struck him. "Severus was not to blame..."

"You...you could see me from...up there?" He whispered.

Hermione nodded, "I saw enough."

Harry looked sideways at Ron, but the red-head was staring at the ground.

"Please...tell me you did not kill him," she said. "The truth."

Ron was silent for a long time. Then he looked up and his eyes were awash with tears. "I did not..." he whispered.

Hermione met his eyes and there was no lie inside them. She smiled, relief uncoiling the fear she'd held inside. "I'm glad," she replied throatily. "I would not have you become a murderer on my behalf."

He hugged himself, looking suddenly cold; his body was shaking. "I knew you were watching...wherever you were."

"I will _always _watch over you," she told him with conviction. And he smiled.

Then when she could no longer bear to ignore his presence, she turned to face Draco standing off to the side. Blood staining blonde locks, tattered cloak and robes, and a pale face peering out through the dirt and grim, to Hermione he looked like the handsomest man in the world.

"Draco..."

All the resolve and will that she'd maintained through the reunions with her friends, crumbled as she stared into those gray-blue eyes that she'd never forget in countless millennia. The choked back sobs came first and then the first trickling tears as she fell against him. He caught her in his strong arms and guided them both to the ground.

"I missed you so much," she sobbed. Her nails dug into his shoulders, giving her purchase as she pressed as much of herself to him as she could. She felt as though she'd die if they were parted.

"You're cold..." he whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear and his rich baritone soothing her quaking shoulders.

"I'm dying," she hiccupped. His body shifted beneath her and she knew he was looking up at her crucified body, twitching in unconsciousness and bleeding out her life force to a thick, congealing, crimson pool along the rampart.

"I was so lost, Hermione, but..." Her face was pressed against his neck, fat tears rolling down into his robes, when he whispered to her. "I never gave up on you."

This only made her cry harder. Harry and Ron looked on helplessly as their best friend broke down, and the battle raged on around them. Time was slipping away. A gentle hand brushed the curls from her eyes, caressing her damp cheek. With trembling lips, Hermione pulled herself upwards and pressed her mouth to Draco's trying to convey everything into that single kiss.

When she finally broke it, their foreheads were pressed together and their eyes only inches apart. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," Hermione choked and buried her head in his chest.

"Then stay..."

"I-I can't," she sobbed. With each passing moment more tears fell and her distress rose. "I want to so badly..."

"Why can't you?"

His questions were so simple, but their answers were anything but. "_God, Draco_. I want to stay with you so much it hurts. I'd give anything for a white picket fence and a dog, to be married to you with children and then grandchildren. I'd give anything to be with you till we've grown old, and 'until death do us part'." She managed to get every word out before sobbing again. "But this is what I _have _to do."

"No..." he murmured. He took her face in his hands, thumbs unconsciously wiping away the tears. "Someone else can fight Voldemort – it doesn't have to be _you_."

She met his pleading gaze with sorrowful eyes. "There _is_ no one else," she whispered.

This time, Draco buried his head against her shoulder, and it was him whose body shook with silent tears.

"You cannot face Voldemort alone," Harry said, from beside her.

Hermione shook her head, "I am not alone at all. I was _never_ alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. I have you all with me. And I have my faith."

"Are you going to die?"

Hermione looked up at Ron and sighed, "I do not wish to, but I will do whatever it takes to kill him."

"But without you, there is no hope for us," Harry pleaded.

Hermione looked around at the men of life and she smiled through the tears. "But there is always _love_," she replied, echoing the words she'd spoken to Hope.

"You once told me 'love conquers all'," Draco finally said, pulling back. "Was that a lie?"

She shook her head. "No, but love cannot stop death – it just continues on after it. Just as you three will continue on without me, until eternity calls you home."

"And then we'll all be together again," Harry finished.

Hermione's head snapped up and when she saw the hopeful look in her friend's eyes she broke down into tears. _No, Harry_..._I'll watch over you...but never again can we be together._ Knowing that she'd never see her friends ago...never again be with Draco killed her more effectively than any spell or sword. But still, she could not bring herself to tell them the truth. They did not deserve that weight upon their souls.

"R-Right," she stammered, unable to meet his eyes. Crying bitter and piteous tears for herself, she buried her head in her hands and cried heart-wrenching sobs. And none of the boys could figure out why.

Draco pulled the bawling girl into his arms, desperately trying to comfort her. "Hermione?"

"I wanted to tell you no," Hermione confessed suddenly as they huddled together. "That I didn't love you. I could have spared you so much pain if I had left you hating me when I died. But I was selfish."

"No, you're not," Draco swore firmly. "You're the least selfish person I know."

Hermione gave a watery smile and reached up tentatively to brush back the blonde bangs, as she had longed to do for so long. "I just wanted to hear you say it…" she whispered. "_one last time_..."

Looking over his shoulder, Hermione's eyes met sapphire. There was an insistent tugging just behind her navel, and the last thing she heard was Draco shouting her name.

She slammed back into her dying body with a force that rocked the entire contraption. Her head snapped up and she gasped – filling empty lungs with air – meeting Voldemort's crimson stare. Her left eye was glowing amber.

"What?!" Voldemort screeched.

She smirked; a gruesome expression with the blood splattered across her face, and with a sigh eased her body forward. The thick nails passed straight through her body as she pulled away from them, and she showed no indication of pain, or even discomfort.

"THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!" Voldemort bellowed.

Hermione held up her hands, palm outwards, for observation and stunned onlookers watched as bone regrew, muscles reknit, and new skin was stretched from the old, until both hands and feet were as they were before. Flawless.

Golden light burst around her for the briefest of seconds and when Hermione's appearance was revealed it was if a line had been drawn directly down her center. On the right side, Hermione Granger still survived with curly brown hair, and ordinary amber eyes, but on the left it was Hope's straight blonde hair and glowing golden eyes that filled her face. Soft pink lips changed to ruby red just as Hermione's black gown turned to Hope's white in a perfect line that went straight through her navel. Hope's hand held the sword, and Hermione's fingers were crooked around a floating ball of energy.

"I am here to deliver judgment," Hope-Hermione spoke in an empty tone that held traces of each voice. "You've been found guilty for your crimes against mankind. The punishment is death."

"You cannot kill me..." Voldemort retorted. "I am the most powerful wizard alive."

Hermione lifted her sword, "But _we_ are a god."

And to everyone below, she seemed to just disappear. Moving too fast for the human eye to follow, Voldemort and Hermione flickered in and out of sight – the final fight had begun.

Green energy blasted up from beneath her, but Hermione absorbed it, spinning around and bringing up her sword as Voldemort attacked again. Sparks exploded as their attacks collided, catching each other in a stalemate. Voldemort's dark magic pressed against her sword, but Hermione's face was still blank and she held her own. Gritting broken teeth, Voldemort disappeared and Hermione's attack sliced harmlessly through the empty space.

She dodged his next attack, spinning off to the side and trying to blast him as he rushed past, but he too disappeared before the magic hit. He charged her from the side and she met the spell with her sword and they become visible to the rest of the world again as they fought to push the one another back.

Outside spells ricocheted at her, but like with Voldemort they dissipated before reaching her, crackling away into nothing.

"Magic can't hurt her you fools!" He hissed.

Hermione rolled sideways, lashing out as he vanished. Blood tipped her sword, and when he reappeared there was a slender cut etched across his reptilian cheek. Her blade had caught the ties of his cloak and the cowl had fallen away bearing his snake-like face. Still keeping one eye on him, she whirled around to catch a small throwing knife that had been heading for her back. Lightening fast, she sent it back the way of its owner and a Death Eater went down, the blade buried up to its hilt in his neck.

"You can't fight me and my warriors at the same time," Voldemort told her as she absorbed another spell into her sword. She sent a ball of energy his way and his image flickered in and out of sight as he reappeared off to the right.

"I don't have to," She replied monotonously.

Their attacks crashed together once more, popping and cracking with excess energy as wills were bent upon each other. Voldemort's only warning was the brief flickering in Hermione's one human eye, before she flung herself to the side and the knife that had been intended for her headed straight for him. Throwing his hand up to catch it, the dark wizard gave a howl and disappeared.

Holding her sword in both hands, Hermione waited for him to reappear, slowly turning in a circle. An inhuman growl coming from her left alerted her to his presence and she was greeted by a ghastly sight. Clutching the dagger in his left hand, Voldemort's right was a bloody mess. He'd caught the knife point first.

He rushed her, face twisted in a furious snarl, and Hermione jumped back as he struck again and again with the small blade. Slicing and jabbing he forced Hermione onto the defensive, but she parried his attacks with fluid ease and finally knocking the dagger from his hand.

Her aura spiked and she thrust towards him while his disarmament still had him off balanced. Voldemort managed to counterattack in time, but this time was different. Hermione had set her sights on his heart, and she was bending her ever ounce of power upon it. She forced her blade through the haze of dark energy that protected him, inch by inch. In a rare abandonment of her empty expression, Hermione smiled as the tip of her blade pressed against his robes.

Voldemort looked up into her merciless eyes and for the first time in his life he knew fear. "KILL HER YOU FOOLS!" He screamed desperately. "BRING HER DOWN!"

Fiber by fiber broke as the steel was shoved deeper. Voldemort hissed as the cold tip touched skin. Held in both hands the sword was shaking from the strength of the magic being shoved through it by her right hand, but Hermione seemed to have no problem gripping it as she leaned forward.

"It pleases me to watch you die..." she whispered.

Voldemort's eyes widened, and he knew. He was staring into the face of death.

"The prophecy was broken," he grunted under the strain of holding her back, refusing to believe.

That sickening smile widened, sword moving another inch deeper. "That's the tricky thing about prophecies. If you hadn't killed me...I would never have had the power to destroy you."

Voldemort roared. _He'd been tricked_! The dark energy around him thickened, fueled by his rage, and ever so slowly Hermione's blade was forced back. She frowned slightly at the turn of events, and then cocked her head to the side as if she'd heard something.

Without warning she turned her body sideways, flinging her right hand outwards. A dozen yards away, held back by the invisible wall of Hermione's power, a barrage of weapons hung suspended in mid-air. Spears, swords, even rocks – the Death Eaters had thrown everything they could find at her. They quivered slightly, aching to break through the shield.

Hope still held the sword against Voldemort's chest, but her face was contorted with the effort of maintaining her killing blow. Hermione was likewise facing the same difficulties. Together they were strong, but separated they crumbled.

"Now it is _you_ who will die," Voldemort's tongue slipped between his slitted lips as he hissed at her.

"I will see your evil purged from this planet," Hope grunted, her strength waning. The blade was being pushed farther and farther back, and try as she might, she could not force it back.

Hermione's arm was shaking and the weapons jerked forward a half foot. "I'll fight you until my body shatters," she cried out. The metal weapons glinted in the sunlight, ready and waiting for her powers to give out. She gritted her teeth, preparing herself to do whatever it took to destroy Voldemort.

Unknowing what was about to happen next, the side of Light cheered "faith" again and again. Fists raised into the air, cheering on their straining warrior. Resigned and sorrowful amber eyes closed, and their voices joining together once more, Hope and Hermione cried out; "WE WILL DEFEAT YOU!"

The last thing she saw was Draco's face, and then Hermione shoved all her power into Hope. Amidst Voldemort's dying gasps, the sword buried itself up to the hilt in his chest, spraying blood everywhere as the major arteries were severed. At the same time, the weapons Hermione had held at bay found their mark.

A spear burst straight through her face as she turned to meet the attack; rupturing one amber eye and forcing the other from its socket. Torso skewered with swords, another blade divested her of her left arm and a curved knife got caught between muscle and flesh in her thigh. Rocks battered her and turned the exposed skin a sickly bruised hue, while three arrows buried themselves in her breast, their fellows tearing her gown to tatters and dotting her body with an array of feathered shafts. Blood was _everywhere_.

She was dead instantly.

All the magic that she'd changed and stored up inside her exploded in a brilliant burst of white light; the force so strong that it kept her body from falling. Hundreds of tiny sparkling lights rained down upon the battlefield, and as the first glitter landed upon Voldemort's mangled form, his body glowed white and vanished. Seeing this, the remaining Death Eaters panicked and tried to run. But each sparkle found its mark and all across the valley bodies burst into light and vanished.

When the supernova faded, the only people left standing were those of the Light. They were all looking around in confused shock, save for one.

"HERMIONE!" Draco was running towards her.

The magic long gone, Hermione fell to her knees, teetering for a second, before she dropped forward and the spear butt thudded into the dirt. She hung grossly suspended for a moment before her head slid slowly down the spear shaft with a revolting squelching sound, a nauseating trail of blood and brains glistening behind it. Sprawled limply out across the ground, her body did not move again.

A tiny spark of light, the very last glitter, winked in and out of sight as it floated down from the clouds towards Hermione's body. Flaring for the briefest of seconds it landed lightly within her upturned hand and melted away. Draco leapt desperately at her, but her body was already glowing milky white and within a second she'd disappeared. Draco slid through the blood stained dirt where Hermione had been just moments before and lay there shaking, unable to find the strength to stand.

There was no sound, and then a high keening sound began. It was matched by another cry and another, until the piercing song was echoing through the valley. The hippogriffs kneeled, throwing their heads back as they gave their wordless cries. Norbert's head bowed, joining in the magical creatures' lament. Every beast mourned the slain champion, unceasing in their haunting song.

The warriors of the Light wandered aimlessly, lost and forlorn, wondering how to continue on. They'd been left behind to pick up the pieces – and the bodies – with sorrow weighing heavily on their hearts and minds.

Voldemort was dead, his army defeated. The war was ended and the world had been saved from evil once and for all. This was what they'd all been fighting for and yet, as they avoided one another's gaze, as they caught a friend's face in the strewn bodies of the fallen, as they glimpsed Draco's shuddering form – they began to wonder if they had truly won after all...and if the price of their victory had been too great...

THE END

There may or may not be an epilogue. Depends on what you want. But if there isn't one by the end of the week, then it's unlikely there ever will be.

**Note to the readers:**

I just wanted to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. It's been nearly a year and a half now, and for those of who have been with me since the beginning you'll never know how much each and every one of you means to me. Through good times and bad, through writer's blocks and broken laptops, you've all been there with a kind word and your wonderful encouragement. I doubt I'd ever have finished this story without all the _amazing_ reviews written, and I'd like to thank you again for taking the time to write out your thoughts to me. They meant the world to me and served, on many occasion, as the last bit of encouragement needed to overcome my chronic procrastination.

May your lives be as bright as you've made mine, and never forget that you could make a wonderful difference in someone else's life. Please keep reading – whether its my story or someone else's – and keep reviewing, because there's nothing better than that to look forward to. It has been the highlight of my fanfiction career, and I hope I'm as lucky in my fans for future stories.

I love all of you,

Katzy


	41. Epilogue

Title: An Inevitable Fate

Epilogue

Author: KissThis

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Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Mention of D x Hr. (I was also told there was a slight implication of one-sided H x Hr, by my pre-reader, so…uh, that too I guess)

Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.

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Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I also have a mortal fear of lawyers. Harry Potter and all its rights ©JK Rowling.

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A/N: By popular demand here is the epilogue to An Inevitable Fate. I tried to tie up as many loose ends as I could, since many of you were wishing for some type of "closure", but I also left it a little open ended so that a sequel could still be a possibility. (Which would be **definitely **focused on D x Hr romance, now that the world's been saved and whatnot) Now don't get too excited. I have a few ideas in my head that might stretch long enough for a sequel, and I'm not sure if I'll be up to tackling it, but I wanted to give myself the possibility. Who knows.

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Dedication: To my devoted fans.

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_I am writing this letter for everyone. And I am writing this letter because it needs to be heard. But mostly, I am writing this letter to tell her story._

_In between the hills of __Scotland__, there is a hidden valley that no map can find and no Muggles eyes have seen. In this valley there is a castle that hasn't changed a single stone since the day it was founded so many centuries before. But there is something there now that wasn't there before. Small, wooden crosses – thirty one in all. They mark an ordinary enough looking plot along the forest borders. Thirty one crosses made in regret and mourning. Thirty one crosses made by her hands._

_At the base of stone steps, leading up to grand doors that still fill first year students with awe and wonder, is something new. It is a statue. It is the cross we made for her._

_It's been two weeks since the reason for its building occurred. That date, April 2nd, will go down in history books as The __Battle__ of Hogwarts Field. But to those who where there, to those who saw **everything**, to those who witnessed her sacrifice – the cost of our salvation – it will only ever be known as...The Day._

_It was the day my best friend was taken from me._

_I am writing this letter because it wasn't supposed to go down like this. She wasn't supposed to die. She was stronger than that, stronger than anything I'd ever known. The Sovereign of Light was immortal, and death wasn't able to touch her pure soul. She wasn't supposed to die that day. But she did._

_She did._

_I had never wanted to be the hero, and not a day went by that I didn't wish to be normal like everyone else. Now, I would have given anything to take her place – she who should never have known such pain, who should never have witnessed such evil. She who should be alive here today._

_I am writing this letter, because that day she paid the price that all valiant heroes pay, and I wasn't able to save her as a hero should. She would always be a better hero than I..._

_I'm remembering now, words that Dumbledore said of her, words spoken of an earlier battle and a similar sacrifice. He said, 'A very brave young woman laid down her life for you today – you who mock her, you who ignore her, you who cannot match her name to a face in the room – simply because it was the right thing to do. She held no grudge, no petty rivalry, fighting bravely to protect **every** single one of you. Such an act is something some of you may never understand, and the age we now live in is partially to blame. But for all her courageousness, this young woman lost a piece of herself defending us; a piece she can never get back.'_

_I will never be completely whole again, because she wasn't supposed to die that day. But she did. And she took a piece of my soul with her._

_I am writing this letter because no one will ever forget her face. It is carved in bronze – the statue at the bottom of the stairs – an eternal preservation of the face that haunts my dreams at night. She is standing at the bottom of the stairs, books in hand, as if she'd just been on her way to class when some wayward spell had froze her in place. It shows her the way she was meant to be shown. Not some supernatural being in elaborate dress with wings or a mighty sword – Just a girl...on her way to class._

_Ordinary, plain – **beautiful**._

_There may come later generations, long down the road, when her story is no longer told to children, and her name has drifted out of use. Those children who come to Hogwarts may pause and stare at the statue and its oddity, wondering if it has somehow been misplaced. They'll read the hundreds of names engraved in the flow of her robes and recite the battle's name, foggy memories stirring at the title, but they'll find no name for the common looking girl carved as a statuette. She will stand there serenely – patiently – and wait for them to remember. Most won't. They'll shrug and continue on up to the castle, leaving the mysterious girl behind. She won't mind. She'll hold her books and wait, at the bottom of the steps, softly smiling. Waiting to be remembered. A Mona Lisa smile._

_But that day is not **this** day. Those here now will not forget that they are here this day because of __one seventeen__ year old girl. They will tell their children and their children's children of her sacrifice. They will bring them there, to that statue at the bottom of the stairs and say that '**here** was where I fought when Voldemort was finally defeated. And **here** is where I stood when she died to protect us. **Here** the world was saved'. And not a single child that passes through those great doors will forget The Day or the face that smiles from the bronze statue there, at the bottom of the stairs – because Hogwarts will never forget._

_Those children will never know the sound of her laughter, or the sugar pink of her lips. They'll never know how much she studied, or that she loved the library more than her own room. They'll never know that she read Hogwarts: A History eighty-seven times and assumed that everyone else had as well. They can never see the way sunlight reflects upon her face, or how she dances as if no one's watching. Having heard how great her heart, they'll never know the feeling of her love, and be sorely lacking for it. She gave everything she had for everyone save herself, but they'll never know she saw herself as selfish at the End. They'll never know the power of her faith, or hear her softly spoken words of passion and inspiration. They'll never know any of these things._

_But I am writing this letter, because I am going to tell them. I'll stand beside her statue and tell them all these important things. Like the way her cheeks dimpled when she laughed, and how she tilted her head to the side whenever she was thinking. I will stand there, at the bottom of the stairs, and they will know her eyes were the color of gold, and that they sparkled when she talked. I'll point to her smile and tell them it's not quite right. That no artist in the world could capture the beauty of her smiles, so only those who saw it could truly know what they were like. But those who only saw it once could recall it instantly if they were asked, so captivating and memorable was it._

_They'll learn all this as I remember it, standing beside her statue that was carved in bronze – the color of her hair. Then I will think of her, and what she will never know._

_She'll never know that the Christmas we spent without her was the bleakest one in Hogwarts history, and she'll never know everyone admired her. Her eyes will never see the pictures Seamus drew of her, nor her ears hear the tearful words of her eulogy. She'll never know the hundreds who came to her service, or know that they're writing a book about her. She'll never know what it's like to be twenty one and her hand will never wear a diamond ring and golden band. She told me the bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone, and now she'll never know that she's always been my hero. They'll never know that she broke through the defenses of a man that all others despised or misunderstood. But **she'll** never know that he cried for her..._

_I am writing this letter because she wasn't supposed to die that day. But she did. And I am writing this letter because I needed to say goodbye. Goodbye to the friend that was stolen from me, goodbye to the ordinary girl that was called upon to fight, the girl that didn't give in to her fears but stood her ground in the face of unimaginable evil, and the girl that showed us all the meaning of 'faith'. But most of all, I am writing this letter because today, Draco Malfoy did what no one ever expected from him, or any other Slytherin. Today, at the age of eighteen, he died of a broken heart..._

_Remember The Day. Remember how the world was saved that morning in a small Scottish valley that no map could ever find. Remember the boy who died from love lost – separated by death. Remember the girl who loved a good book more than any bouquet of flowers, and whose statue's smile is only a shadow of the true one's brilliance. Remember...Hermione Granger._

Harry James Potter


End file.
